


Of Roses and Thorns

by EnchantedPixie495



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Golden Snitch - Freeform, Happy Ending, Harry as the Beast, Hermione as Belle, Romance, Violent Thoughts, Wrongful Imprisonment, slow start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 90,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantedPixie495/pseuds/EnchantedPixie495
Summary: Hermione wants more out of life than the small provincial town of Hogsmeade. There, she stands out from the crowd with her strong-willed independence and her love for books. But when Hermione's father was taken prisoner, her path was forever changed.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HarmonyAtTheMovies](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HarmonyAtTheMovies) collection. 

> **Prompt:** Beauty & The Beast (2017)
> 
> This piece was written for Harmony & Co’s Harmony at the Movies: A Film Fest. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter Series belongs to JK Rowling. All plots, dialogue, and situations from the movie Beauty and the Beast (2017) belongs to Walt Disney Studios. I am not profiting from this work. 
> 
> I'd like to sincerely thank tweetysrcclt9 and Sakubato for their hard work and dedication in polishing this story. If it weren't for their patience and care, I doubt this story would have been as good as it is now.

_Once upon a time, somewhere neither here nor there, a handsome young Lord lived in a beautiful castle… _

The young Lord scowled, green eyes narrowing. He faced a pair of gilded golden door that were shut. Beyond that, music and laughter can be heard from the other side. The party, his party has started.

Crystal glasses clinked as guests danced upon the marble floor, golden gelded crystal chandeliers hanging high up above them in the opulent ballroom. Countless exquisite and priceless objects in the hall, from the vases, to the crystal ornaments are there to be viewed and appreciated by those attending. Beautiful vases, golden travesties, detailed portraits, and solid gold serving plates are some things that can be seen.

However, all that pales in comparison to the beauty of those attending. Some of the fairest and most exotic beauties can be seen frolicking in the ball, dancing the night away. For the Lord did not just invite anyone to his parties. He invited the most beautiful ones of them all, for he refused to surround himself with nothing but splendor. Every one of his guests, coming from far and wide to attend, all as much on display as the inanimate objects there.

Staring ahead, the Lord did not pay much heed to the servants nervously adding the finishing touches onto his person. Adding another colorful coating of powder on his face, highlighting the bold gold paint with delicate green lines, he smiled. Once done, he dismissed them offhandedly. His major-domo, a sandy brown lanky fellow, interrupted his contemplation, and informed him that it is time for his grand entrance. Wearing the finest and most fashionable robes, he stood up and headed towards the door. The moment he passed through the doors, the servants, both hidden and visible gave a sigh of relief. A dark-haired servant frowned at that, but shrugged to those in the foyer, shaking his head.

The young Lord glided into the ballroom and seated himself on his golden throne on the stage, all whilst watching the many ladies dance in synchronization. He made eye contact with a red-headed woman, who was dancing close to the stage, and she blushed deeply. This is what he loves; to have the complete and utter ability of rendering a woman speechless from a single look. With a wave of his hand, the large diva started her performance for the Lord, Italian maestro playing away. He stood up and haughtily started to dance with each of the ladies in his presence, never failing to sway as appropriately close as possible. While dancing away, from lady to lady, the diva's tones reached an everlasting high pitch when …

Suddenly, a loud bang ricocheted across the ballroom, startling the diva into silence. The Lord looked around and signaled for the maestro to stop. The women stopped their synchronized dance, curious to see the cause of this disturbance. Another knock was heard from the glass door that leads to the rose garden. The Lord, who was curious at first, was furious. Who dared to disrupt his party, at the height of its activities? He roughly pushed away from the crowd, striding angrily to the direction of the loud banging. Heading towards the stage where his throne stands, he was about to reach it when the closed glass door suddenly opened.

The fierce cold wind which was all but ignored by the party-goers, wailed as the door blasted open in tandem with a flash of thunder. Rain poured in from the torrent outside, drenching the floor. The candles that were in the scones which lightened the room dimmed, wavered and almost immediately were put out. Dead leaves that littered the rose garden outside scattered the floor, and the warm temperature of the room chilled, as the cold icy wind entered. The Lord's handsome face contorted in rage.

A haggard figure stumbled past the gilded glass door. The figure trailed dirt and grime from who knows where onto the pristine floor. The party is officially ruined; there would be no way that this can become any worse. Ordering one of his servants to fetch him a candelabra, the Lord roughly grabbed it and turned to face the intruder.

The Lord strode forward towards the figure with a contorted face. His green eyes narrowed in disgust as he looked down upon the intruder in question, who had by then, fallen on the ground in tiredness, a withered cane beside them. The figure looked up from its downed position, and the Lord was greeted with the ugliest and more wrinkled face he had ever seen. The grey hair was unkempt and dirty while the face of the now evident old woman was riddled with more wrinkles than smooth skin. He could not comprehend how a seemingly old and withered woman managed to pass through the wards surrounding his land.

As he peered down at the old woman, she looked back up at him. The old woman, noting the disdain on his face, held up a single red rose in offering; a rose that was most likely plucked from his very garden before. He looked down and derisively took the flower from her outstretched hand. Glancing at the flower, he coldly laughed. The ladies, who were watching the byplay between the Lord and the old woman, giggled and watched in amusement.

Scoffing at the so-called 'gift', he twirled the offering in his fingers. He cannot believe the audacity of this thing to just decide to barge in and ruin his party, and at what cost? A rose. He mockingly threw it near the old woman.

The old woman appeared shaken by the abrupt manner that the rose was thrown away. She looked at the gift that she had just offered him and shakily picked it up. She, again, stared at him pleadingly and offered it to him once more.

The Lord grabbed the rose roughly and glanced at it. He looked back at the old lady again and scoffed at her audacity. Doesn't she understand that he does not want nor need her gift? He can pluck any rose, any flower, from anywhere in the world, so why should he accept this, this insult? Tilting his head, and insuring that he has eye contact with the woman, he crushed the flower in his hand and threw it away. He turned around, preparing himself to call his servants to throw the intruder out when he realized that quite suddenly, a light seemed to be emitting from somewhere, as if someone cast a high powered lumos behind him.

Gasps can be heard from the direction of his guests and looking at their shocked and scared faces, a shiver went up his spine. He turned around, wondering what was going on behind him, when he saw the hunched up woman beneath the cloak obscured from the light. The only thing he was able to discern is the hands. What was once fragile and brittle was smoothing right before his eyes into the hands of a young woman.

Light pouring out of her skin, the downed figure before him stood up slowly. Before his eyes, she transformed. The dirt that previously marred her cleared off. The wrinkles that were engraved smoothed, and the rose that was previously crushed in his hand regained its vibrancy as a tendril of light touched it. The previously old and weathered cloak became white and pristine. His mouth opened in shock, and the Lord took a step back. More tendrils of light poured out of the cloak, and before his eyes, smooth hands pulled down the hood... To reveal a beautiful Enchantress

He was met with the most beautiful face he had ever seen before. Long fair hair cascading down her face, stormy grey eyes alights with magic. She floated high up above him. He had read about this before, for she is an Enchantress. She came here to test him... And he had failed.

He dropped down on his knees, pleading for mercy but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no kindness in his heart. In the background, the guests fled the premise, in fear of being caught in the crossfire. A pair of twins ran into the room, wondering what was going on, and their mother chased after them, stopping them from coming closer to the happenings. The diva, maestro and all servants braced themselves against the wall.

Though the Lord pleaded her to reconsider, the Enchantress looked down at him stoically, unfazed by the chaos she brought. She came here to test him, to see if the Lord had a shred of kindness and love in his heart. Yet, he failed, even after being given more than one opportunity to prove otherwise. She held up the rose, and with a burst of magic, struck the Lord.

His eyes widened in shock. Deep within his chest he felt a pressure building and building until at some point, something burst out of his skin. Painfully, he felt his limbs elongate and a heavy weight growing at the top of his head. His clothes burst from the seams, and hair sprouting out of every inch of skin on his body. He looked down at his hands and noticed, instead of his pale smooth skin, a hairy claw. He roared and unknowingly slashed across one of his portraits in anguish.

Another burst of magic shot out of the rose, and pulsed, surrounding the land and castle. Everyone who worked and lived in the castle felt themselves tethered and with a third wave of magic, transformed, similar to the beast she had created. The once human staff became household objects, from kitchenware, to furniture and antiques.

The Enchantress, once done with her work, disappeared in a burst of light, leaving the rose behind…

_As days bled into years, the Lord and his servants were forgotten by the world. For the Enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved. But the rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose. If he could learn to love another… and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope..._

_For who could ever learn to love a beast?_


	2. Chapter I

Hermione woke up at the crowing of the rooster and stretched, back popping. She stands up proceeds with her morning ritual. Taking a bath, and dressing in her working clothes in record time, she stares at the mirror on her vanity and sighs. No matter how much she tries to tame her bushy brown hair into submission, it will always be ineffective. Glaring at the nest she calls hair, she attempts to do so anyway. It takes a while, but she eventually manages to comb her bushy hair into a semblance of submission. Glaring her now somewhat more manageable tresses, she mentally prepares herself for the painful task of managing it enough for her public outing. She knows that it is futile, but attempts it anyway. Eventually a few minutes later, she finally manages to tie her hair up in a simple blue bow. Nodding to herself for another battle won, she stands up and heads out the door, grabbing a book from the console along the way.

Silently closing the door behind her, she leans her back against it and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Feeling the clean crisp air entering her lungs, and listening to the chirping of the birds high up in the trees, she opened her eyes. Another day will start soon. Squaring her shoulders, she takes a handful of the seeds from the pot near the door and feeds the hungry chickens. Satisfied by their cackling she fills a large bucket of water for the horse and checks to make sure that there is enough barley there for the day. Nodding to herself for a job well done, she looks up.

Noticing the position of the sun in the sky, she sighs. She steels herself for another predictable day in this provincial town. She can practically go ahead with this day with her eyes closed by how mundanely repetitive it is. The moment the sun rises from the west, the villagers will start to wake up and prepare themselves for another working day, and once the long hand of the clock strikes twelve, and church bells will ring while the village awakens.

She looks up, and stares and the clock tower, counting down the seconds. The moment the hand strikes eight o'clock, a woman from the building opens the window of her house, greeting another who was shaking out a rug nearby. A butcher leaves his station, and waves to a cobbler dragging a cart behind him. While listening to the many villagers greeting each other for another day, Hermione goes on and pays a baker for a baguette, stashing it in her pocket. Book in hand; she meanders her way through the throng of passerby, disappearing into the crowd.

She goes from aisle to aisle, picking up some of her groceries along the way. Walking along, she notices that one of the shopkeepers, a carpenter by the name of Arthur, waves her way while tending his mule, face perpetually confused when looking down at his cart.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley! Good day today?"

"Honestly Hermione, how many times must I tell you to call me Arthur?" Mr. Weasley responded arching one eyebrow. "You are as good as a daughter to me."

"You know I cannot just do that" she laughed. She hands the mule the apple she kept with her in case she passed by Mr. Weasley's cart. Patting its head, she looks back at him.

He smiled, "Well, to another day I guess, and a pretty good one so far, although..." Scratching his head, he looks down at his carriage in confusion taking stock of his wares, "...I still cannot point my finger on what I have forgotten. But oh well," he smiled at her "I am sure it will come to me eventually."

Shaking his red head, he waves her away. "Where are you heading to now; to grab another one of those books perhaps?"

"I am actually. Just off to pick up another one" She pointed at the book she is currently holding, walking backwards.

"Oh. Well. Don't let me stop you." He responded smiling lightly, "Say hi to your father for me will you?"

"Of course I will!" Hermione calls back from behind her back, waving at him as she proceeds to walk away.

A line of schoolboys passes by her heading towards the school, whispering to each other how funny she is. The Headmaster of the school glared, and with one look, silenced the lot of them. Sneering down at the figure walking away from the school, he ushers the boys into the school impatiently. Shaking his head in repulsion, he walks back inside, taking note to keep an eye on the annoying know-it-all.

Hermione walks away and faced a duck pond. She merrily jumped over the stepping stones to reach the other side. A few girls wearing woman's work clothes were washing the clothes in the circular laverie. They looked up and quickly removed the clothes they were working on from the edge, saving them from being stepped on by the distracted Hermione, who was absently reading the book she was holding. The girls looked at the odd sight in confusion, while the women who were kneading clothes on barrels, started to gossip between themselves.

Even when they try to talk quietly, she cannot help but hear what is being said between them. She heard it all, about how odd she is, how she is always hesitant to talk to them, and how she does not seem to be able to fit in any group. Rolling her eyes, she ignored their pointed stares. No matter where she goes or what she does, those whispers keep following her. She knows that she may be seen as unapproachable, but she just cannot stand it. The talks of fashion, and relationships, it just never ends. She tried to connect with her peers on those topics, but she cannot help but draw a blank sometimes whenever they ask her opinion. And whenever she opens the topic on the latest book she read, interesting pieces of trivia and or even talking about some of the new spells she learned, they always manage to quickly change the topic.

Passing by the many people in town, and listening to the very repetitive dialogue between them, she heaved a sigh. She heard the fishmonger and woman barter on the price of eggs, while another tried and failed to flirt his way up another woman's skirt. It is infuriating.

With a frustrated sigh, Hermione finally reached the church. She ducked inside, escaping the busy cobblestone paths and people outside. She finds the reverend there, Filus, busy dusting the windows standing on one of the tall ladders. Looking down, and noticing the entrance of his most anticipated visitor, he quickly hurried down the ladder.

"Hello there Ms Granger!" squeaked the short Reverend. "Why, if it is the only bookworm in town! Where have you been with lately?"

"Oh, I have actually visited the mere-people down in the Black Lake; learned a lot on their customs and habitat." She responded gleefully. She then proceeds to talk to the reverend on what she read, even though she is sure that he had already read the book before her multiple times. However, it is tradition, and they cannot help but do it.

Finishing her small summary of the book she read, Hermione asks hopefully, "Have you got any new books lately?"

"I am sorry, but I do not believe I have. You may borrow one of the previous ones you have read though." The Reverend responded back. It is a rare thing for a new shipment of books to reach their little town. Even through owl post, it takes months for an order to arrive. This long delay regretfully leaves the resident bookworm reading the same books multiple times. Over the course of six years, Hermione can count in two hands the number of times a book shipment reached their small town.

Smiling ruefully, "Well, I won't take too long" Walking over to the shelf; Hermione thrummed her fingers across the withered spines. Stopping at a title, she removes one and smiled. Twirling back at Filus, she waves her choice, "I am going to be borrowing this book again Filus. Thank you so much, your corner makes this little world a bigger place."

"Until next time then, Ms. Granger," he called out to her as she was leaving, "Bye!"

Laughing merrily, Hermione left the church and continued to get the rest of the groceries for the day. Once she purchased the last item on the list, she started to make her way back home. Observing the hustle and bustle of village, she sighed. There is nothing much to do in the village. The people although mostly kind and simple, lack the drive to do any sort of change. Even the day to day events are boring to witness. The most exciting thing to ever happen is the occasional banter between a fishmonger and a stern woman over the price of eggs. She misses the hustle and bustle of London, with its many festivals and a whole lot of eccentric personalities. Here, the people all fall into the stereotypical village role.

With a little jolt, she realizes that through all of her contemplation, she had somehow managed to take most of the way back home. Shaking her head, taking the last turn to reach her house, she spots a familiar figure of a beggar woman outside her house. She walks over to her, and kindly greeted her. "Good morning Luna, did you manage to find that pin you lost yesterday?"

The woman smiled at Hermione, a faraway look in her eyes. "Not yet, though I do wonder why they keep disappearing when I turn my back. Must be the nargles. They sometimes do like to play tricks every now and then."

She fondly smiled at Luna's answer. If there is one person whom she could say can truly understand her struggles, it would be Luna. Hermione, although feels lonely from the lack of interest she receives whenever she talks, cannot help but feel sad at the way Luna is treated. Luna, called Loony by the children, is a young woman who lost her parents when she was younger and have lived on the streets ever since. She has been ostracized by the people of the village, and although Hermione and her father tried to help her as much as they can, she always managed to somehow deflect their worry by sprouting some new information on the magical creatures she invented.

"Do you want me to help you find it?"

"No, don't worry. I am sure that the nargles will give it back to me somehow. They always do." Luna smiled at her.

Shaking her head, Hermione opened her pocket and pulled out the baguette she purchased earlier and handed it to Luna. "Here. I am pretty sure no one is going to help you today, but here is something to tide you over for the beginning of the day."

"Why thank you," Luna responded, dazed by the size of it. "Do you have any jam on you?" Luna asked cheekily. Without much prompting, she pulled out a small jar of jam and handed it to Luna. Laughing at the gift, she feverously thanked Hermione for her thoughtfulness. She knows that there are barely any people who would care for the wellbeing of a person like her. She is always thankful for the smallest bout of kindness.

Hermione smiled at how cute Luna is. It is a shame that the villagers cannot see how amazing she is, never seeing past her eccentricities. "I need to go now. If there is anything you need, anything at all, please tell me. I won't hesitate to help."

"Thank you..." Luna softly replied, blushing. Smiling warmly, she continued "... I am sure that someday someone is going to truly appreciate your uniqueness. Mark my words."

"Sure Luna," Hermione responded back, rolling her eyes. Smiling she started to walk away in the direction of her house, "Well, until then! Bye for now!"

As Hermione walked away, grey eyes never strayed from Hermione's figure, till it can be seen no more.


	3. Chapter II

For as long as he can remember, Draco Malfoy knew he was the best. With his grey eyes, blonde locks, and tall, lean stature, it is easy for others to acknowledge that even when it came to appearances his is unparalleled. Brought up by his prestigious father, Lord Malfoy, he was privileged to never know the pain of working hard to get what he wanted. Whatever he asked for, he always got, from the toys to the brooms, and even once he has grown up, even the girls. All he had to do was look their way and they would run flocking to him. He was for a time, looked down on for the fact that he wasn't contributing to this small town, that is until the war.

When it was announced, he went by the orders of his father. He resisted at first of course, for who would want to sweat and injure themselves for the glorified greater good? However, he eventually complied. He spent two years there working day and night, never given a reprieve to rest and relax until the terror was eliminated.

Or well... that was what everyone else thought. In reality, he barely contributed to the war effort. The only thing he was qualified to do was heal the injured and even then, not the severely injured ones. He did listen to what a few of the more recluse battle healers did, and after asking enough questions, obliviated them.

He was awarded an Order of Merlin Second Class, gifted a majestic stallion, and was told to go back home. When he returned, the villagers whom have previously detested his way of life, hailed him back as a hero. Flowers were thrown his way, and gifts were sent to his mansion. When once, he was given dirty looks for his work ethic or lack thereof, now has all of his whims taken care of by the people there. There was no need for him to work a single day in his life, for every need a human may want to survive just gets thrust his way.

Even now, years later after the fact, he never had to do much work in the village. All he had to do now is walk around or ride his horse; the other villagers never failed to give him some of their wares. The lassies of the village will topple over themselves for his attention. He indulged them, of course, but now that he is older; his father has been asking him when he is going to take one of the girls he spends time with to marry.

He has been going around; testing the waters so to say with many of the girls in the village, but the only one who truly caught his eye is the elusive Hermione Granger. The moment he saw her, jumping down the carriage loaded with furniture, eyes widening at the sight of her new home, he fell. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, completely natural in all her beauty. He knew, at that moment, out of all of the girls he had the 'pleasure' of meeting, that this is the girl who is going to be his wife. He tried to talk her into going out with him, she always brushes him off. It is alluring, how easily she throws away his advances. It was a glorious pursuit, like breaking in a new horse, one day she would submit to him.

Now, riding his large horse on top of the hill which towers above the village, wearing his army getup, shiny breastplate on his chest, Draco peered through his spyglass, searching for the object of his obsession. He spots Hermione in the village, walking through another archway. Licking his lips, his eyes roving all over her figure, he gave the spyglass to his trusted companion, Ronald Weasley, "Look over there Ron, can't you see the girl who is going to be my wife?"

"Whom, that Parkinson girl?" Ronald responded, gaze hungrily devouring the vision of Pansy Parkinson's full bosom.

"No you fool, I am talking about Hermione."

"The bookworm? Are you sure?" Ronald responded, tilting his head, spyglass finally finding the figure in question, seemingly greeting another one of the villagers. "She is- Ugh, really well-read. While you are more- um- athletically inclined." He stated warily, afraid of his companions' response. "And don't forget that even if you somehow manage to make her agree to marry you, which is doubtful in itself, you have to get her father's blessing. You know that he had it against you ever since you proposed to her when they first arrived."

"Well, she is the most beautiful one of them all, why wouldn't I marry her?" Draco responded haughtily. "My father already gave his consent, on the condition that I manage to snag a Pureblood witch as my mistress later. It is already approved, so why wouldn't I marry her?" Grabbing the spyglass from Ronald's outstretched hand; he took one last look at Hermione and pocketed it. "As of her father… Well… I will deal with him once I manage to get Hermione's acceptance."

Ronald hid a laugh, shaking his head, "If you say so..."

Pulling the rein on their horse, they made their way into the village. It may not have seemed like much, and even though with magic they can easily apparate into the village, it is more prestigious to do so with a horse. His father owned countless breeds, both magical and mundane. However, he was always told that the first horse he owned needed to be earned. He didn't really understand the significance of that, but now, he understood what his father meant. The pride of earning the white majestic stallion for his contributions was astounding. Reaching his mansion, and seeing the pride etched on his father's face when he finally returned was worth all the suffering he endured. He would never forget that look on his father's face for as long as he lived.

As Draco and Ronald made their way past the village gates, body poised ever so elegantly, Draco spotted Hermione in the distance, geese following her footsteps. He sighed and thought back on her. He never really took his father's word seriously, when it came to finding a wife. No one really caught his eye before, but ever since he laid eyes on her, he always wanted to have her. When she first came into the village, he fell, knowing that he will marry her. For now, however, he settles for the other ladies in the town to deal with his needs; that is, until Hermione gives into his wants of course. He looked across the road, reaching the tavern, and spotted three women at the other side. He looked them up and down, and although he likes what he sees, pretended not to see them.

The three women in question, especially the black-haired woman in the center, instantly swooned. She loved the thrill of being with the village bad boy. Sure, he may always act coy and charming to the unsuspecting majority of the village, but the only ones who knew his prowess are the girls who frequent his chambers. She knows that underneath all the fine layers of clothing, is a fine chiseled male specimen that she cannot help but want to make him hers.

Finally reaching the tavern, he jumps down his saddle, stable boys immediately steadying his stead. The stallion roughly stepped on a puddle of mud, instantly drenching the front of the girl's petticoat with a splattering of mud. They shrieked, and jumped back, face horrified by the mud on their person. Looking up, they caught the eye of Draco before he shook his blond head and walked away.

Ronald looked at the distraught faces of the lassies and threw them a pitying look. He knows that Draco would never seriously consider them to be a candidate to be the next Mrs. Malfoy. His attempts to woo Hermione had not wavered at all for a while now. Shaking his head at their attempts, he walked away, hoping to catch up to Draco before he made another of his attempts.

Draco moved through the market, hoping to spot Hermione before she disappeared. Noticing her in the distance, crossing the market, he went off in pursuit. Stopping at a perfume stall, filled to the brim with a wide selection of flowers, he grabbed the biggest and brightest selections of them all. Quickly paying for them, he grabbed the bouquet and chased after her.

He was frustrated by the lack of luck. Whenever Draco was getting closer to catching up with Hermione, something had to come in his way. First, it was a cart, which was speeding through the market. Then, a couple of children and a few chickens ran past him, making him pause in his tracks. Then, a couple of ladies stopped and tried to talk to him, which he tried to brush away as soon as he can. It was, to put it short, a nightmare. He managed to make it past them eventually, but Hermione could barely be seen now. Those little inconveniences are annoying and downright frustrating for him to experience, but if by the end of the road, Hermione will become his wife, then so be it.

Slightly out of breath, Draco finally manages to catch up to Hermione, who was now sitting on a bench reading a book. Checking display mirror at the side of the road to make sure that he does not look unkempt, flattening his blond hair and straightening his robes, he strode confidently towards her. "Good morning Hermione! Wonderful book you have there."

Hermione's eyes brightened, "Have you read it? I know you have an expansive library, but I am not so sure-"

"Well, not _that _one… But you know…_Books." _He remarked. In truth, although what Hermione did say was true regarding the library, he never really cared much to read any more than the assigned text for his required studies. He never really bothered to read any of the more obscure tomes he had; for there was no need for it.

Flashing a disarming smile, he thrusts the flowers onto her hands. "I saw them in the wild and thought of you." He said. Hopefully, he asked, "So... Shall I join you for dinner this evening?"

"Sorry, not tonight." She responded half apologetically.

"Busy?"

"Not really."

"Well... Why not tomorrow?" He asked anyway, hoping that she would accept.

"I will... think about it." Throwing a mortified smile at Draco, she turned and shook her head, walking away.

Ronald, who has been watching the byplay between the two individuals, slapped his hand against his face. He really does not understand why Draco would not give up and move onto another more willing chit. This is practically a daily occurrence, and never easy to watch. Sure, Hermione may be somewhat pretty, and certainly has a different flair than all of the other girls in town, but that does not mean that he understands why Draco is so adamant of getting this one girl. Shaking his head he approached the mildly distraught man, who was standing in the center of the market, holding the bouquet.

"So? Moving on yet? Or do you want to continue to get rejected?"

"No, Ron. It's the ones who play hard to get that are the sweetest prey" Draco said, eyes still looking at the last spot Hermione disappeared to.

Looking down at the bouquet, Draco responded matter-of-factly "That's what makes Hermione so appealing, you know? Usually, whenever I want to cater to my whims, women tend to just... Answer instantly. With no hesitation, they run over to me, begging me for attention. She, however, hasn't made a fool of herself just to gain my favor. It is kind of… mesmerizing. How challenging she is. What would you call that?"

"Dignity?"

"It's outrageously attractive, isn't it?" Draco responded, quirking his eyebrow.

Laughing at the odd situation they are in, Draco looked over at the village lassies across the road. They all gave him the eye, beckoning him with their eyes to come to them. Hungrily looking over the very appealing visage of Pansy Parkinson's fine body, he winked and threw the useless bouquet away.

He saunters over, ready to let loose on another willing participant. He can figure out how to win over Hermione at another time. For now though? He is free to do whatever he pleases.


	4. Chapter III

Sighing in relief after managing to survive another encounter with Draco, Hermione closed the wired fence, preparing herself to gather the laundry. As she approaches the front door of the cottage, her ears picked up on the sound of a sweet musical tune. Smiling knowingly, she follows the sound that is wafting out of her father's basement workshop.

Carefully descending into the dusty workroom, she finds her father Richard Granger, hunching over his workshop, tinkering with another one of his miniature inventions. She steps forward, about to announce her presence, when she overhears him singing along the tunes of a music box. Hermione stands hidden, silently observing her father as he sings to the music box's theme.

Richard continues to tinker with the base of the box, slowly tweaking the gears at the base. The box in question portrays an artist in a Parisian garret, painting his wife's portrait as she holds a red rose above their baby. Finishing with the gear placement, and ensuring that it won't interfere with the rune array, he peers at them and nods. Looking up, he spots Hermione by the entrance; his face brightens when he sighted her.

"Oh, good, Hermione, you are back. Can you hand me the —"

Correctly anticipating what her father needed, Hermione handed him a screwdriver. Looking down, Richard nodded at her selection.

"And the –"

Tweezers were placed deftly in his hand. Then Hermione hands him a small hammer…

"No no I don't need –"

… Just as a spring pops off.

"Actually… yes, that's exactly what I need."

Her father goes back to tinkering. Meanwhile, Hermione walked away, staring at the many drawings and portraits that decorate the walls. She spots the wall of books that cover one part of the basement. Eyes glazing over the various topics that line the shelf, she remembers the way the villagers talk with her; all of the whispers, the looks, and the manner of which they react whenever she talks to them.

"Dad, do you think I am odd?"

Richard looked up, perplexedly examining Hermione. "Odd? My girl? Now, where did you get an idea like that?"

"From… the villagers. They talk, and I cannot help but overhear them…"

He quirked an eyebrow at the statement, "Oh people… This village may seem small, small-minded even, but small also means safe." Chuckling, he shook his head and looked at Hermione. Noticing her confused face, he continued, "Look my dear; this village is like a river. Most people like to go with the flow, never daring themselves to go against the current. So when something comes around, that does not follow that current; they will try changing it till it follows their flow. It is simpler, to deal with something that is familiar and predictable, rather than the unknown."

"The people here, although simple-minded, are predictable. They have their own roles and are happy to stay within them. You, however, are never scared to break free from what is expected of you." Misty eyed, Richard whipped a stray tear.

"Your mother was like that. Even back in London, when I first met her she was so different, so daring, and so ahead of her time. People mocked and belittled her until the day they all found themselves imitating her." Smiling, he grabbed a small gear and continues to tinker with the music box. "Your mother faced all that, all the laughs and comments, but in the end… She was the one who laughed in the end."

Listening to her father's words, Hermione's face lightened up. It was rare for him to mention her mother, her name never failed to clam her father's lips. So whenever her father purposely brings her up, she always tries to ask him more about her, trying to learn as much as she can from the parental figure she never had. "Please dad… Can you tell me one more thing about her?" Hermione asked.

Richard turned to the music box, hoping that Hermione will change the subject. But looking back up to Hermione's eagerness, he relents.

"Your mother was… fearless. _Fearless_."

And with that, Richard closes his music box.

* * *

As Richard carefully loads his last ware inside the carriage, Hermione was busy tending to the family's old glue horse Buckbeak. Ensuring that everything is secured, Richard climbed into the wagon, turned to his daughter and smiled, "What would you like me to bring you from the market, my dear?"

"Well…" Hermione said, pretending to think about it, "A rose. Like the one in the painting."

"But you ask that of me every year!" Richard exclaimed, clutching his heart.

Smirking, she responded, "And every year you bring it."

He tilted his head, looked down at Hermione and narrowed his eyes, "are you sure that that is the only thing you want me to bring?"

"Yes dad, I am sure."

Sighing, he shook his head. Patting her head, Richard smiled, "Then I will bring you another. You have my word."

Nodding, Hermione ran back up the steps of the house and turned around just in time to see her father urge the horse forward.

"I'll see you tomorrow father!"

"Tomorrow, with the rose!" Richard yelled back.

Turning around, just before he went any further, he waves back at Hermione. As Richard rides away, Hermione's warm face gives way to concern.

"Stay safe…"

* * *

Surrounded by design sketches, Hermione's workbench features a mirage of arithmetical calculations for her new spell, which she designed to make the laundry wash themselves.

It infuriates Hermione how the village treats magical advancement and knowledge. Although everyone has the capacity to wield magic, no one has ever thought to further their skills. Everyone is content with what they have learned at school, and from what she is able to see, they are satisfied with what they were made to learn.

Hermione though, have always found magic to be a truly wondrous gift. For this untapped power to be left to stagnate is something she thought should be a crime. The more knowledge a person has, the more opportunities they will have later in life, at least… that is what she believes. She will always be blessed to have a father who nourished her to love the challenge of learning, who never told her off for her boundless curiosity.

Others may scoff at her endless thirst of knowledge, but that is something she learned to overcome. Though she may have learnt to quell her reactions to the barbs thrown her way, she always wondered what it would be like to truly have an equal in this regard.

Shaking her head at the rampant thoughts in her head, Hermione double-checked her calculations. She would love to experiment with her new spell, and hopefully, it will give her a means to wash the laundry whilst doing something else, like… reading.

Grinning at the possibility of cutting down the time she takes to do her chores, Hermione nodded to herself, and closed her journal. All the calculations have been double-checked she stood up and went to collect the laundry basket. After all, she did promise her father that she would test her newest spell whilst he was away. Ever since the disaster of the dust removal charm she invented a few months ago. It had taken a week to fix the damages of that one.

Nodding to herself, she grabbed the laundry basket and insured that all of the dirty clothes are inside it alongside all of the equipment needed to clean them. She went outside and headed towards the general direction of the round laverie. The girls and women who tended to clean in the morning are all absent. She prefers to avoid going in the morning for that reason. After all, what is the point of going there when all the women are going to do is gossip about her oddness. After the first few times, she avoided the morning run, preferring to go at a time when most of the village women wouldn't be there.

Smiling to a random villager, Hermione set her basket down and proceeded to prepare her equipment. Taking a tossed barrel, she set a bag of cut soaps inside them and tossed the laundry inside. Checking to see that there is some water inside; Hermione took out her wand, and carefully cast her newest spell on the barrel. After all, it wouldn't do in her excitement for something to go wrong in such a public place. The spell set, she watched in satisfaction as the barrel rolled inside the laverie, turning in circles by itself, leaving the clothes inside to clean themselves. Satisfied that the job is done, Hermione pulled out a beginners charm book from her front pocket, as a refresher.

As she is reading the book, she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. Grabbing her wand she cautiously looked around, curious to see who is staring at her. Hermione spotted a young girl, not even twelve, staring at her across the laverie. Softly, Hermione beckoned the little girl forward.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione cocked her head, "What are you referring to?"

"Um…" the girl hesitated, and pointed at the book in her hand, blushing at the attention.

"Oh. Do you mean with this? I am reading a charms book."

"Charms? Like what dad does when he summons a quill?"

"Yes, like that. Why do you ask?"

The girl looked left and right, seemed to be scared to answer, "Will you teach me? Like what you did to the barrel thing?" she whispered.

"You mean magic?" Hermione smiled gently, carefully placing her book away. "Of course I can help. Do you have a wand on you?"

"Yes!" the girl beamed up, extracting her wand from her pocket. "They gave me a wand last year, but warned me not to try anything until next year" The girl pouted, "All Mum promises to teach me some ways to cook food with magic, not like the amazing things you do! Will you teach me? Please?"

Hermione extracted her wand and looking around. Spotting a large feather on the ground, she picked it up, and gently placed it on the edge of the laverie. Beckoning the girl forward, she pointed at the feather, "This is one of the first spells father taught me", and Hermione grinned. "With it, you can make objects fly!"

With a look of wonder on her face, the girl stared at Hermione as she swished and flicked her wand, and with a muttered spell, made the feather float a couple of feet off the ground. Grinning mischievously, Hermione set the feather on the girl's face, tickling her nose. The girl laughed, and sat down, eager to learn her first spell.

* * *

Unknown to her, the Headmaster of the school, Severus Snape, emerged from the school by the laughter that can be heard from the direction of the laverie. He walks towards the sounds, curious to see what is going on. His face contorted in disgust as he saw Hermione, the resident know-it-all, instructing a little girl on how to perform the Levitation Charm. Furious, he strides forward, and overhears the conversation between them,

"Now, one more time. I am sure you can do it this time."

"Alright…_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

To his shock and horror, a feather slowly rose up a few feet, directed by the little girls' wand. The girl squealed in evident happiness and hugged the Granger girl.

"Thank you! Can you teach me a new charm?"

Staring in shock at what just happened, he was joined by his assistant, Madam Umbridge. "Mister Snape? What is…?"

"Look."

Curious, Madam Umbridge looked around, trying to spot the cause of the Headmasters upset. Her face was shocked, and then became schooled, when she saw the… _girl _performing magic in front of a child, "This is scandalous! Teaching a girl magic so soon? It is bad enough we have one know-it-all, let alone two!"

Across the yard, Hermione locks eyes with the headmaster and turned back to the girl, ignoring his appalled face. He seethes at the audacity, "We have to do something."

* * *

Hermione's barrel was hauled out of the laverie and dumped onto the ground. As she collects her laundry from the dirt, she tries her best to remain poised before the gawking crowd. She winced when she heard the small girl's cry as her wand was snatched from her hand, and passed to her mothers, who berated her for her actions.

Biting her lip to prevent herself from lashing out, she goes to collect another one of her discarded laundry when a hand picked it up. Looking up from her downed position, Revered Filus smiles sadly at her, shaking his head. Sighing, she nods and grabbed the last of the clothes. The crowd around her whispers fervently at her public humiliation.

"Honestly," Headmaster Snape sneers at her, "You know that we barely tolerate your… _attitude_ of how we go about with our lives, but that does not mean you have to try to change things around here. Your noisiness is annoying, and frankly, you should jus—"

Suddenly, a shot was heard from beyond the crowed, startling the Headmaster into silence. The people, who were gawking and pointing at her, jumped from the thundering sound. They turned and parted, making way for Malfoy to walk through, with his sidekick, Ronald Weasley behind him. Looking up, Hermione can now see him, walking haughtily towards her, wand held in his hand.

"Make way, make way… There is nothing to see here..." and Draco flashed a smile her way, instantly making her recoil slightly away from him. She grabbed the last of her clothes and stood up. She sighed in relief, glad to see the attention is off her for once.

"Mr. Malfoy… How nice for you to join us…" the Headmaster said. "Now, it is unfortunate, but Miss Granger here was caught… teaching a girl some magic. You know it is forbidden for girls to learn so soon; their cores too weak to handle the strain."

Draco waved his hand, "I am sure this is just a misunderstanding. But is this really the best way to handle the situation? Am pretty sure everyone here has more important things to do that watching two girls being reprimanded."

Headmaster Snape tilted his head and nodded. Throwing one more withering look at Hermione, he walked away, Madam Umbridge following suit.

The villagers looked at each other, and gradually, people started to disperse, sensing that nothing interesting is going to happen. Hermione shook her head and bent down to grab her laundry basket.

Standing up, she makes eye contact with Draco's grey eyes and cringed, subtly turning her head away. Without another word, she walked away, quickly adding as much distance between her and Draco as possible.

Draco stared at her figure as she walked away, eyes never straying away. Ignoring Ronald's mutterings, he chased after her, leaving his partner behind. At some point, he did lose her, but having already memorized the way to her house, he was easily able to reach her. He quickly kept in step with her hurried walk, "I was pretty great back then wasn't I Hermione? The tension… It was as if I was back in battle."

Hermione rolled her eyes. He always does this; comparing almost any situation with the battle that he participated in ages ago. It is as if he expects her to be awed by his achievements. Sadly enough, that is not really the case. She met many wizards in London whom have participated in the war, and the difference in the way they held themselves and Draco and the others are rather staggering. By the number of times, he reiterated his brave adventures; she practically memorized all of them, including his many... versions of them.

"It was as—"

"Look Draco, thank you for your help back there, but I really need to go now."

Staggering slightly, Draco stopped and looked at her, making Hermione feel uncomfortable. "You know Hermione… I know you think I have it all, but there is something that I am missing."

"Oh really? Tell me, what is it? "

"A wife."

"A-a wife?" Hermione said, stuttering. Now this is something new. Usually, he always tries asking her on dates, and with a few occasions, tries to start some sort of physical action. This is different. Not wanting to listen anymore, Hermione finally spots the fence which circles her home. Briskly walking ahead, she reaches the fence first and opens the gate. Before Draco entered, she closed it and locked it.

Draco finally catches up to Hermione and tried to open the gate to no avail. He looked at her face, and she could have sworn she saw something sinister swimming in his eyes. He made one more attempt to open the fence, but Hermione resolutely held it closed. Draco stared at Hermione and with a smile; that glint disappearing quickly, unnerving her. "You know you are not really living until you see yourself reflected in someone else's eyes."

"And...You can see yourself in mine?"

"Oh yes..."

With a forced smile, Hermione walked back towards her house, hoping this time Draco will take the hint and just go away from her. Unfortunately, he never does. He followed her path along the fence and entered through another gate. Hermione briskly tried to enter the cottage as soon as she can, but Draco was quickly following though. "Hermione, about the little incident with the headmaster, he never liked me either, always sneering at me whenever I did something wrong."

Grimacing, Hermione quickly walked faster, struggling somewhat with the weight of the wet laundry. She would have been able to escape him if it wasn't for the bloody basket.

He continued as if nothing happened, "Can I give you a little advice about the villagers though? They are never going to trust the kind of change you're trying to bring."

Disregarding all the cues, Draco pursued her into the garden, trampling the cabbages along the way. Appalled by his rudeness, she staggered, giving Draco an ample amount of time to catch up to her. Turning, she stared up at Draco, and resolutely said, "Look Draco, I appreciate your opinions, but they are not needed. All I wanted was to teach a girl some magic, nothing more. There is nothing wrong with that."

"But look at it this way, the only children you should really concern yourself with are… your own."

Hermione looked around, looking for a way out. She does not like where this is going. She plastered a fake smile on her face, "I am not ready to have children."

"Why not?" Draco responded, quirking an eyebrow, "Every woman wants to have children! Maybe…" he leaned forward, breathing on her face, "Maybe you haven't met the right man. I am sure that once you… Properly meet him, everything will fall into place."

Hermione snorted and walked a step back, slowly etching her way up the stairs. "It is a small village Draco, I am pretty sure I've met them all."

"Maybe you should take another look. Some of us have changed you know…"

She climbs the rest of the steps to her cottage door. Draco follows close behind, barely giving her room to move away. Gritting her teeth, Hermione turns around and stares right at him, her smile not faltering. "Look Draco, we can never make each other happy. You lived your life differently than mine. And realistically, no one can change that much; especially you."

Draco appeared stunned by what just happened. Straightening himself, he peered down at her, making Hermione feel small. "Your disregard for those who pursue you is rather… concerning. Do you really think you have some sort of opinion on this?"

"Yes, I do!" Hermione snapped, magic flaring deep within her. "Do you honestly think that I should just bend over and go with what you say? You are not what I want in a marriage. And it will never be."

Turning around, she climbed the rest of the way up the stairs, finally a few steps away from the door. "Hermione…"

Shivering, she turned around, and could clearly see the menacing glint hidden in his eyes. She was unable to move, rooted by the intensity in his eyes. "I think it is rather… callous of you to throw my affections to you every time I spell them out. Do you know how much pain you are causing me just by rejecting my advances?"

"No…" she gulped. "And frankly, I don't care."

"Yes, you should," he advances towards her, akin to a predator hunting prey. He was close enough to touch when he raised his hand and tucked a lock behind her ear. She recoiled, wanting nothing more to be anywhere but there. "Do you know what happens to spinsters in this village after their fathers die?"

Hermione froze.

Smiling at her, he motions to the street pointing at Luna, who was striding on the street, uncaring for the lack of footwear on her feet.

"They beg for scrapes, living off the work of simple folk like us. They get thrown away, and discarded, becoming the joke of the community they are in. This is our way of life—"

A stone was thrown at Luna, hitting her on the head.

"—you should learn that."

Hermione snapped and punched Draco in the face. He stumbled backward and fell down. It is unheard of for a wizard to be accosted physically, so the look he gave her was priceless. Whimpering on the ground, he looked up and glared at her.

"Look, your so-called advice in unneeded. First of all, you should never ever think, that I will give you the time of day. You always annoy me, follow me, and downright stalk me whenever you spot me outside my own home. Second—"

She takes one step forward, making Draco stand up quickly.

"—how dare you even insult Luna in front of me. You are like all the other people in this village, callous and simpleminded. You cannot see the beauty in this world, and the true joys of magic. It is unfortunate that Xenos died in the war, but the people in this village are uncaring for his sacrifice. Instead of caring for the girl who lost her father, you threw her out into the streets, forcing her to fend for herself. And lastly—"

Brandishing her wand, she pointed it at Draco, who has by this point stood up and dusted off the mud that clung to his person.

"—how dare you insinuate that I should marry you before something happens to my father. How on earth do you expect me to marry someone who insults my father behind his back? He may not be a strong wizard, but he is brilliant using what he has. I have ears you know, I know what you say about my father behind my back."

Sparks flying out of her hair, she glares at Draco. "Now to make it all so clear so that even an idiot can understand. I will never date you, and I will never marry you Draco. I hope that this little piece of information will finally sink into your head."

At this point, Draco has finished straightening his clothes. With a schooled face, he bowed shallowly and plastered a smile on his face. "It seems the incident that happened previously has... addled your brain. I will forgive all of the barbs you threw my way if you allow me to go out with you at a later date. Good day."

Before Hermione was able to refute him, he has already turned and made his way out of the garden, seemingly ignoring everything she just said. With a huff, she picked up her laundry basket and entered the cottage, placing it on the side.

Leaving the cottage again, she spots Draco in the distance, chatting up another girl of his. "Honestly, can someone imagine? Me the wife of that foul loathsome evil little—"

"—cockroach?"

Startled, Hermione turns around and spots Luna tending to the chickens. Smiling, Hermione went down to greet her. "Hi Luna… Were we too loud?"

"Well…" Luna tilted her head. "A few Fluffenors did fly away. They are rather sensitive to loud sounds you see. I am pretty sure they will come back soon."

"Yeah… That is what I feared," Hermione sighed. "Why doesn't he just leave me alone? I think I was pretty transparent in my disregard of him…"

"Some people are like that. No matter what you do, they won't take no for an answer."

She groaned, feeling a headache starting to build. "I don't know what else to do to make him go away! Other than cursing him or downright warding against him, I have no new ideas on what to do to dissuade him! I mean... Look at me! Can you imagine me being Mrs. Malfoy? I am pretty sure I would kill him before the week is up!"

Luna patted her shoulder and lifted her head. With a smile, she wiped the small droplets off Hermione's eyes. "Look, do not lose hope. It may seem that you are stuck, but trust me, as long as the people who truly care for you are around, you will never, ever be that bigot's wife.

So have some faith, okay?"


	5. Chapter IV

Far off into the distance, a clap of lightning can be heard. The wind blowing through the dark foliage, light from the thunderstorm momentarily bathes the dark recesses of the woods with light. Buckbeak whines, but with a firm hold, he continues to move forward.

Richard looked around the path with weariness. Hours have passed since he left the village, and unlike what he is accustomed, things aren't going as planned. The bridge that they routinely use to go over the river has apparently collapsed, and all the other roads are blocked for some reason or another. The only path left that was passable was through the Forest.

Everyone knew not to go into the woods, especially at night, but unfortunately, he had no other choice. He thought he would be able to get through it quickly, but looking around and not seeing an opening along the path, that didn't seem to be the case.

Shivering, he tapped the lantern which hung from his carriage with his wand, recharging it. Blinded by the glow, he grimaced. He is pretty sure he is downright stupid for him to do this, but there was no choice. It is too dark for him to see the trail without a light source. Hopefully, he will be able to leave the woods soon, before something terrible happened.

As the woods got darker the deeper he went, a shiver went up his spine. Shaking the odd overwhelming urge to go back, he continued forward, until he saw a withered tree blocking the main path. He was absentmindedly steering Buckbeak towards a narrow side road when suddenly a bolt of lightning struck the tree, sparks flying everywhere.

He reared Buckbeak back, startled by the unexpected event. The smell of burning wood permeated the air, and with a loud crack, the tree split in two and fell on the road. Heart beating widely in his chest, he wiped his brow and took a few staggering breaths.

It was a close call. If he had been riding any faster, he was sure he would have been crushed under the tree.

Buckbeak whinnied nervously, and Richard jumped down the cart. Petting the horse on the head and feeding him a spare apple, he looked down at the fallen tree. Smoke drifting, and looking charred, Richard did not think he was going to be able to move this obstacle any time soon. As he was walking away, he noticed something; a hidden path which he wasn't able to see previously. Shaking his head at how he wasn't able to see this before. He cleared off a few fallen branches from the road. Ensuring that there is enough space for the cart to pass through, he jumped back on the cart.

They left the blocked road and headed down the path. Temperature dropping, Richard shivered. He looked down to see a light snow cover on the ground. Widening his eyes at the sight, he stopped the cart and jumped down.

Crouching on the ground, he touched the surface. Cold seeping through his hand, he wrenched it off the ground and backed away. Wildly turning around, and seeing the layer of snow covering the expanse of the ground, he forced himself to regulate his breathing.

"It's… snow… in June." Shaking his head in wonder, he grabbed a heavy coat from the back of the cart and put it on. Ensuring that Buckbeak had a cover on him, he jumped back on the cart and continued forward.

They entered another world. A light, whirling snow descends on Richard, dusting his coat. The clippity-clop of hooves echo in stillness through the woods as Buckbeak continued down the path.

Suddenly, a massive shadow jumped out of the bushes, barely missing them. Gaze darting, Richard notices multiple massive black hairy spiders crawling on an icy ledge above him. He only read about them, but they are hard to miss.

Acromantula- a massive magical species of spiders that are wizard-bred and designed to guard dwellings or treasure hoards. They are considered to be dangerous and extremely venomous. Sweat dripping from his forehead, he pushed the horse to go faster.

The Acromantula kept pace, massing to overrun him.

"Go, Buckbeak! Hurry!"

Richard urged his horse on, but the rickety cart started to buckle. The harness came loose when suddenly a giant spider leapt in front of the cart. The harness snapped, tipping the cart over on its side. The chest of music boxes smashed open on the ground, lying scattered on the snowy ground. Richard was launched up onto a ridge precariously close to the edge and turned around—

— To find himself face-to-face with the clicking pincers of a giant spider in front of him. A set of eight beady black eyes glimmer in the dark. Terrified, Richard turned and began sliding down the snowy hill, his heart beating in his chest when he spotted another three spiders waiting below. With a yell, Richard calls for Buckbeak as he drops down the ridge. Landing harshly on the horse's back, he urges it to run forward.

Legs crushing twigs, pincers clicking behind, beady eyes mad with hunger, Buckbeak gallops speedily along the icy path. Richard glanced behind him to see the distance between the Acromantulas and himself getting shorter every second. Looking forward once more, he pushed the horse to run faster when he spotted a gate in the distance.

Richard raced towards the icy gates which churned open as the Acromantulas drew near. The man and his horse sped through the gates as the giant spiders skidded to a stop, running back into the forest, seemingly in fear.

Riding Buckbeak through the snow-covered gardens, Richard stared in open-mouth awe at a massive castle looming overhead. He had seen many great structures before; after all, he had lived in London. Yet the foreboding architecture before him paled all of the ones he had seen previously. A grey edifice seemingly growing out of stone and reaching to troubled skies. With haunted sculptures of gruesome monsters decorating its exterior and the seemingly abandoned trees twisting out of the garden, he felt intimidated. Although the cold winds blew the snow flurries about, the air was still… silent.

Richard shivered the closer he guided Buckbeak to the structure… it felt abandoned, haunted. It felt like a place that is concealing its face from the world.

Gulping, Richard rode onward.

As he drew nearer to the castle, he noticed a colonnade filled with white rose bushes. A shiver of fear went up Richards's spine. Roses growing in such harsh conditions? It is unnatural. However, the moment the thought came into his mind; it was cast off as he spotted a stable near the entrance of the castle.

Letting out a breath of relief, he noted how labored Buckbeaks breath was. Thankful for the reprieve, he guided the horse to the stable doors, which had been swinging in the wind. A lamp was been lit inside as if inviting a tired traveler. Reaching the stables, he jumped down to and went inside to see everything set up inside. Water, fresh hay… "Looks like you are set old friend," Richard said, stroking Buckbeaks neck.

Warily, Richard peered out at the intimidating castle. Buckbeak secured in the stables, he walked out on the snowy grounds heading towards the entrance. Gulping, he walked up the castle steps, heart stuttering widely in his chest.

Well… If they are going to be stuck here temporarily, best to go pay respects to the unwitting host… whoever that may be.

Climbing the large stone steps, he didn't notice a crow watching his every move.


	6. Chapter V

Cautiously, Richard approached the castle door. He gazed up at a row of torches held by sculpted iron hands. The hands are so life-like; he does a double-take and cannot help but admire its exquisite detail. Then before he was able to knock –

– the door opened with a creek. Startled, Richard peered in, trying to see who had opened the door. Yet… nothing. No one was there. He closed the door behind him, wondering how on earth the door opened by itself. He looked around, trying to spot someone in the wide expansive foyer.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Silence. Flashes of lightning illuminated a once-elegant space, now fallen into disrepair. Tall windows let in the faint light from the outside, illuminating the castle's interior. A fine layer of dust covers almost every surface of the countless pieces haphazardly placed all over the foyer.

Gulping at the oppressive atmosphere, he shrugged out of his coat and put it on a coat rack at the entrance. The cold layers peeled off from his person, he looked around in the hope of spotting someone, anyone, who lived in his temporary refuge.

He turned, not seeing the coat rack shake the snow off.

He cautiously explored the area, scanning the room and all of its furniture, from the tables and chairs to the seemingly discarded feather duster and pot set.

As he passed by, he also failed to notice a large candelabrum and an ornate mantel clock sitting seeming innocently on a window sill. Yet, as he passes by them, the candelabrum turned, following the path of the lost traveler.

"Look! He must have lost his way in the woods…"

"What are you doing?" The clock whispered to the candelabrum, who was craning its neck, "Stop moving and shut up."

Instantly, the candelabrum stopped. Yet it wasn't because of what the clock told it to do, but rather because Richard heard the hushed conversation and spun around, trying to find the owners of the voices.

Richard tensed as he headed towards the direction the sound came from, but as he approached the location, he found no one there. Spinning around to make sure that he wasn't really losing his mind, he warily eyed the two pieces and approached them. Bending down towards their level, he cannot help but admire the detailed wolf etchings on the ornate clock, marveled by the beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Picking up the candelabrum, he held it up to the dim light and inspected it. Turning the piece left and right, his eyes followed the smooth and fluid design admiring how human-like it looked.

Remembering the voices he heard, he frowned and removed his wand from his wand holster. Casting a finite on the piece, he relaxed minutely by the lack of reaction it garnered from the bit of magic. Still wary, he didn't repocket his wand in case there is something… dangerous lurking in the shadows.

Hearing an echo of an eerie harpsichord from a different part of the castle, he put the piece down and moved on towards that direction.

Richard didn't notice the candelabrum rubbing his head the moment he was out of earshot.

"A man of taste."

"That is what you want to believe… " 

Richard continued his exploration of the castle. A grand staircase rose from the middle of the foyer and branched out into two wings of the castle. Making his way towards the back of the staircase, he truly felt like an intruder. He made way to the back and realized that the main entryway to what now seemed to be the ballroom was ajar.

Peeking inside the expansive area, the music abruptly stopped playing. He looked around, and cannot help but feel sad for the way the room was left in disarray. What should have obviously been a bright and cheery ballroom felt desolate and lonely. A lone harpsichord lay discarded in the middle of the empty room, its seat haphazardly thrown in a different area.

Looking around and again seeing no one there, he shook his head and moved on. It does not do to dwell and think of what may have happened in this castle to have made the owners neglect to take care of such a beautiful area. It was as if it was purposely left to rot; as if something had happened in that room made the owner purposefully neglect it. 

Thinking that the music must have been some sort of echo of a happier past, he left the ballroom and made his way back to the foyer he had been in.

Heading towards the crackling fire he leaned closer towards it, warming up his front. The castle did not seem to have their temperature wards powered up and with the size of the large area; he felt that it would be too hard to reactivate them. Feeling his front adequately warmed, he turned around to warm his behind when he noticed a door to his right. It was odd that he didn't notice the door before, but put it out of his mind. He tried until he thought he heard a clicketing sound coming from that direction.

He did not want to overstep his boundaries, but he could not help but be curious who made that sound. So far, he hadn't found anyone and was starting to feel guilty for not thanking his unknowing host. Soldering himself, he walked towards the door smoothing his ruffled hair along the way. Knocking on the door, he half-hoped someone would respond, yet no one did.

Cautiously opening the door, he entered to find a vast dining room dominated by a banquet table where a meal has been set out. His nose picking on the tantalizing smell of fresh food, his stomach gave a loud rumble. He hadn't eaten since before he entered the woods, and with him running for his life, his hunger was all but forgotten. Now though, his blood has calmed down, and his body had decided to make its needs known.

Walking inside, he briskly made his way into the room. Assuming that there is no one around who would kick him out – after all, he did spend so much time in the castle with no one casting him out – he made his way to the direction of the food. Looking at the spread before him, his mouth watered and with another gurgle of his stomach, pulled the golden chair backwards and sat down. Placing the table handkerchief on his lap, he stared at the spread before him, not sure where to start.

He was famished though, and one look at the steaming hot bread later, he tore off a chunk of it and devoured it ravenously. As he looked around for something to wash down the food, a cup of tea slid into his hand. Without a thought, he had drunk a good mouthful before he realized what happened.

Teacups did not move by themselves.

Taking a deep breath, he put the teacup back on the table and took out his wand and from underneath the table, cast a Revealing Charm on the area. Oddly enough there wasn't anyone in the area with the exception of himself. Dismissing the odd event as the result of his hyper-aware self, he tucked the wand back in his holster and reached for the pot. Pouring another cup of hot liquid for himself, he reached over for the teacup once more.

It slid to his hand once more.

For it to happen once, he could dismiss the happening as something he may have imagined. For it to happen twice, though… that was a pattern. Startled by this realization, Richard itched his way backward, staring at the offending item.

He shook his head. Maybe the item is enchanted perhaps? Or maybe-

"Greg… You weren’t supposed to move."

Richard looked around, fear climbing up his spine. He brandished his wand and started to cast detection spells on the offending item and all of the other items on the table. When nothing came up, showing that the china cup was just that, a china cup that had apparently moved by itself and that everything else was not enchanted or cursed, he took a deep breath and sat back down.

This… Maybe he was too tired? Maybe everything that happened in the woods took more out of him than he thought. Staring suspiciously at the teacup, he reached his hand to grab another one. Yet when he reached over his hand to grab it… it moved. Towards him.

"Damn it… I wasn't supposed to do that. Sorry."

"It is alright," Richard calmly said…

… as he bolted from the table.

Like any sane person, Richard briskly made his way out of the foyer and headed straight to the entrance of the castle. He backed towards the door and bows to the shadows before him "I… am thankful for your patience and benevolence in allowing me to stay in your home. However, I… Have remembered some urgent matter I need to attend to back home. Good day. "

Grabbing his coat from the rack and hastily putting it on, he made his way out of the doors into the blackened outdoors.

A flash of lightning illuminates a beastly shape on the staircase…

… and at the next flash, it was gone.

* * *

Richard raced to the stables and spotted Buckbeak eating a large pile of hay in the warm expanse. Throwing the reins on the horses head, Richard guided him out of the stables, eager to get as far away as he can from the eerie castle he was in. There may have been a poltergeist playing some sort of joke at him, but frankly, he does not want to find that out. Too many things happened in that castle, which he hoped to forget about as soon as he is back at home with Hermione.

But as he made his way back to the gate, a really strong urge overcame him as he thought of his daughter. Roses. As odd as that may sound, with everything that happened this evening, he at least needed to do something to make it worthwhile.

Remembering the rose bushes he passed when he first entered this location, he guided Buckbeak to the direction of the rose-filled colonnade. Against every instinct that warred with him in his body, he entered the colonnade and dismounted, checking to see that he hasn't been followed from the castle. Neither man nor horse noticed a dark figure tracking every move they made, a dark tail swishing back and forth.

Richard stroked his nervous horse, leaving him outside as he entered. Taking stock of the vast number of roses around him; his eye caught a particular white rose on one of the branches and made his way towards it.

Buckbeak snorts and whinnied, sensing the danger that is lurking in the shadows. However, to the beasts dismay, Richard ignored the telltale warnings of his friend. As if he was compelled to touch and pick the rose. Images of Hermione's bright face as he gave her gift, Richard reached over for the flower. He prickled his finger, yet he was not dissuaded from the pain that he felt. Taking out his wand he performs a weak cutting spell on the rose and picked the rose.

Satisfied with his catch, he held up the rose for inspection – only to hear a booming roar from above.

"That is MINE!"

Terrified as the dark shape leaps down from the colonnade, Richard drops the rose, stumbling and falling backwards as a dark shadow is cast over him. A dark figure loomed over him, casting him in shadow. He felt rooted, frozen as the… the monster made itself known.

The figure did look humanoid in shape, wore a cape and trousers, but that is where the similarities remained. Thick brown fur covers the expanse of the monsters figure, claws adorned his hands, and an odd black tail swishes from behind.

The only thing truly human about the creature is the bright green eyes that are framed by fur on his face.

Rage, they say, can contort even an angel's face into that of a demon.

"I have allowed you safe passage into my lands, granted you shelter from the weather outside and permitted you to eat my food yet… "

The monster reached forward and grabbed the rose that was thrown away in the middle of the snowy ground. And before Richards eyes…

… it was crushed before his fist.

"This is the thanks I get?"

Richard tried moving away, but couldn’t find his footing. Before he can utter a shout, the monster before him hoisted him up and dragged him back to the castle he had just escaped from. Buckbeak whinnied in terror and broke from his harness and fled from the scene, charging through the castle grounds and out the icy gates into the woods beyond.


	7. Chapter VI

"Good morning Hermione!"

Startled, Hermione jumps up from the unexpected sound. She was busy tending to the chickens, giving them their morning meal when a voice startled her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she sees Luna looking curiously at her, an unknown gleam in her eye.

"Good morning to you Luna. What is your forecast for the day?" Hermione asked, smiling as she pulled out another weed that was growing between the plants.

"Hmm… Well…" Luna said, tilting her head, "I think that it is going to rain soon."

"Rain?"

"Yes, rain."

Hermione shook her head, "But… It is June. Are you sure?"

Luna nodded, causing Hermione to gulp her parched throat, warily looking at the clear sky overhead. Whenever Luna said something, as absurd as it may be, it always turned out to be true in some way. That was one of the main reasons why the villagers, although love to ignore Luna's existence, never went out of their way to be downright mean or cruel towards her.

It is a rather distasteful thing to be happy about, but that is something Hermione learned to forcefully swallow in her life in this little town.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded to her, showing to Luna that she understood.

"Do you want to hang out for a bit?"

Luna shook her head, shocking Hermione by her negative reply. Usually, Luna agreed to hang out with Hermione, seeing as most of the time she has nothing else to do."

"I am going to have a very busy day. I know a precious thing is going to be taken away from me, so I am planning on giving a mark to protect it once it is away."

"Really? That is…"

"Sad. I know. But it has to be done," she said easily.

"Oh… I—"

Luna brightly smiled, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. Anyway," she looked up at the blue sky above, wind lightly blowing through her hair, "I will need to go soon. I will talk to you some other time, alright?"

Hermione nodded, once again awed by the strength of this slip of a girl, "Alright Luna, see you later okay?"

Nodding, Luna skipped a few steps before stopping in her tracks, "Oh! I almost forgot," taking out a golden necklace from her pocket, she walked back and handed it to Hermione.

It had an odd shape, looking like an intricate spherical ball with wings, with obscure carvings and ruins engraved on its surface.

Hermione looked up, about to argue against this extravagant looking gift, "Luna, I cannot possibly acc—"

"Hermione,"

She stopped, not because of the tone of her voice which still remained the same, but because of the look in Luna's eyes. Her normally light grey eyes, that seemed to almost always be focused on something that is neither here nor there, seemed to have sharpened before her eyes, grey eyes staring intently at her.

"I need you to listen," Luna continued, knowing she now has Hermione's complete attention, "you are my best friend. There is nothing that I would do that will cause you any sort of hurt in the long run. I am giving you this gift as a token of appreciation for everything that you have ever done for me. I know I am… different than everyone else in this village. But know this; that no matter what happens, I am always going to be by your side. So please… Wear this."

Looking down at the necklace in her hand, Hermione cannot help but feel happy by what just happened. It had always been difficult for her to connect with her peers and knew in the back of her head that the relationship between Luna and herself could be considered friendship, but to have her outright say it in her face…

It is the best feeling she ever felt in the world.

She beamed at Luna, who softly smiled back at Hermione, softly brushing the stray tear that has escaped her eyelid. Gently taking the necklace, she turned Hermione around and clasped it on her neck.

Hermione gasped as she felt warmth emanating from the necklace, spreading throughout her body. "Luna, that…"

"I have enchanted the necklace for you. It will protect you from people who will have the intent to cause you harm, as well as keep you warm when you are cold, "Luna said he eyes alight with something she cannot identify, smiling somewhat mischievously, "You are going to need it."

A shocked laugh left Hermione's lips, causing Luna to giggle in turn. Touching the necklace with her fingers, she felt the little object flap its wings, and although tethered to the chain around her neck, it flew in front of her face, startling Hermione out of her laugh.

Curiously, she looked at Luna, who is now trying to hold back her laughter, "Did I tell you that it is an animated object?"

"No," Hermione deadpanned.

"Curious, I could have sworn I told you."

Giggling once more, Luna looked up at the sky, her face obscured by her hair that was being played with by the breeze.

"Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Things may not really seem to be going right. It may look like it is a hopeless situation but everything will turn out the best for everyone."

Hermione blinked, "What do you mean? What situation?"

Luna looked at Hermione, "You will understand soon enough," she took Hermione's hands in hers and clenched this lightly, "Don't worry. So long as you are wearing that necklace, you will be protected from anything that will have the intent to hurt you. Everything will turn out the way it is supposed to."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, not making sense of the seemingly random advice and wisdom Luna just sprouted. Luna did occasionally love to say something that is going to pertain to a situation that is going to be useful in the future, but this… did not really make sense. She could not think of a single situation where all of this advice would be useful for.

"Okay Hermione?"

"…okay."

Giving a wonderful smile, Luna turned around and skipped along the cobblestone path until she couldn't be seen anymore. Touching the little orb and feeling a jolt of that warmth against her skin, she shook her head. It wouldn't do to overthink everything that Luna told her. Sometimes, the best way to deal with an odd situation is nothing at all.

Nodding to herself, Hermione went back through the fence, rolling her sleeves along the way. Insured everything is secured, she proceeded to bend down and go back to work in the cabbage patch.

Picking blade after blade, she fell back into the calm of doing something familiar; something mind-numbing. It is an escape, sure, but sometimes when things tend to get a little bit wild in the town; it is fun to calm down with an everyday routine. Sure, she loved reading books, but sometimes, it can get a bit too taxing.

Humming to herself, she picked up another weed and placed it in the basket. As she went to pick up another one a whinny disturbed the silence. Looking up, she saw Buckbeak galloping along the road.

Hermione bolted up, throwing the leaves on the ground. Opening the fence, she ran towards Buckbeak. She opened the gate to his paddock to allow the horse into it so that he can drink. She patted him gently.

"What happened…? Where's…?"

She suddenly went still as she took note of the state of the horse. His sides covered in sweat and mud… scratches all over its underbelly…

Her hand shook as she took the state of the torn straps and tattered reins clung to what remains of his harness. Her eyes grew even wider as she noticed the fear emblazoned in the horses' eyes…

Something bad must have happened to her father. In dread, her gaze darts to the woods, eyes glistening. Rubbing her eyes, she steeled herself and made her way back inside the house.

Grabbing the first cloak she could find, she rushed back outside to the paddock and without much thought, threw a saddle on the exhausted horse and secured it on its back. She knew she was asking a lot of the horse, but he is the only one who knew where her father is.

Mounting the horse, she kicked him forward.

At first, Buckbeak followed the same winding path that her father usually took whenever he went on one of his trips, but the moment Buckbeak galloped forward past the bridge he customarily used in his trek to the city, she knew something was wrong. The deeper Buckbeak went into the woods; the more worried she has become. It is obvious this path was not one that travelers usually frequent, based on the uneven ground beneath her.

Sunlight constricting more the deeper she ventured into the forest, Buckbeak continued to gallop further until they have reached a part where sunlight barely seeped through the thick branches of the canopy overhead. At one point, she passed a scorched tree lying on the ground, which must have recently been struck by lightning.

The deeper she went into the woods, the colder in became, until she reached a point where she could see her breath as she exhaled. It became so cold that snow flurries started to fall from the sky. It is odd, she thought, how the weather is drastically changing. It is summertime in the country, yet… it is snowing.

It is surreal.

A fierce burst of wind hit her face, and not for the first time during her ride, she cannot believe her luck for Luna to gift the necklace to her. She is sure that, without the warming enchantment imbedded into the piece, she would have needed to resort to cast multiple heating charms just to stay warm.

She caught sight of something shiny lying on the ground off the side of the path just as she started to wonder how long it will take them to find her father. Guiding Buckbeak towards that, she came across the fallen pieces of a music box which she remembered her father working on not even a day ago.

Dismounting from the horse, she fell to the ground and with a shaking hand, picked up one of the pieces. Breathe hitching; she took a deep breath and looked around the area, spotting boxes and other pieces littering the forest floor.

Spotting the trampled cart on the ground, she stood up and walked towards it. The lamp was still warm, but barely. If, heaven forbid, her father died, his magic would have died with him.

Hope rejuvenating, and with the proof that her father was still alive, she wiped her hand and made her way back to Buckbeak, who has stood diligently over her while she investigated what had obviously been the crash site.

Mounting the horse again and taking one last glance at the pieces on the ground, she nudged Buckbeak with her foot and urged him forwards deeper into the woods. The horse dashed forward; seemingly familiar with the thin and winding path. Hermione can only hope it was the same way he and her father had gone during whatever it was that happened yesterday.

With that thought, she spotted something at the end of the road, a pair of giant ice gates looming among the frozen landscape. Narrowing her eyebrows and ignoring the shiver going up her spine, she dashed through the opening, not noticing the gates closing silently behind her.

Looking ahead, she galloped on top of the bridge and entered what seemed to be a courtyard, filled with unkempt and wild plants which had been left unattended for a long time. She glances at the tall architecture before her but ignores it in favor of guiding Buckbeak to the stable. Her father had to be in there somewhere. She just knew it.

Jumping down, she left the horse to his needs. Leaving the stable, she moved towards the stone steps and then paused. It would not do to enter the castle without any sort of physical defense. Sure, she may have her wand, but it would not be effective if something jumps at her while she is unprepared. Looking around, she found a thick branch lying on the ground nearby. She picked it up and tries a few experimental swings like a club before making her way to the castle.

With a mix of apprehension and determination, she opened the doors of the castle, not bothering with knocking. She didn't want to waste any more time to find him. She entered to find a foyer, encroached into darkness.

Frowning, she took out her wand and cast a silent lumos charm, before sending the light off to the center of the room. It wasn't enough to illuminate the whole room, but it was enough for her to see the general area around her. She looked around and not seeing anyone in her peripheral, walked cautiously inside.

The door slammed behind her, its bang making her loosen her grip with the branch, clattering onto the ground. The atmosphere of the castle pressed in on Hermione. Creepy dragon statues on the staircase seem like they are watching her, making her shift her eyes warily around the area.

In the silence of the oppressive atmosphere, she heard voices having a whispered conversation in the same place she is in. Brandishing her wand, she pointed it at the general area from where she heard the voices, "Who's there!?"

Silence followed, yet Hermione wasn't going to be taking any chances. Pointing her wand at the area in front, she illuminated the area, which would have normally forced the people there to show themselves.

No one was there; the only thing that truly stood up was a pair of seemingly antique items lying on a table nearby. She walked over towards them, and with a curious look, picked up the candelabrum. She turned it here and there, and not seeing anything truly suspicious about it, was going to go to the motion of putting it back in its place when she heard a faint cough echoing through the castle.

Clenching the candelabrum, she pointed her wand at the candles on them, lighting them. Hermione turned and headed in the general direction where she heard the sound, climbing the winding staircase.

The clock, which has been left behind, shudders with dread.


	8. Chapter VII

Hermione's feet lead her through many corridors until she found a padlocked door blocking her path. Gritting her teeth, she unlocked the door with a wave of her wand and made her way into what seemed to be a tower of sorts. The area dark and dreary, she was about to turn back when she heard what she recognizes as her fathers cough echoing from somewhere on top of her.

Her father was close. Emitting a relieved sigh, she calmly and cautiously made her way up the vast labyrinth of stairs. Glancing to her side, she grimaced at the lack of railings alongside the stairs and the prison cells lining almost every level in the tower.

Another cough was heard, closer than before. Hastening her steps, Hermione made her way up the last flight of stairs until she reaches a grated iron door. Her father, who had left the village healthy and vibrant, now sits inside the prison cell looking terribly pale and sick. Although she was sure her father was well when he departed yesterday. He looked… as if he hadn't eaten for days.

"Father! You…?"

Putting the candelabrum on the ledge beside the cold iron door, she rushes towards her father, grasping his cold hands within her grasp through the iron hedge. She gasps at its temperature, and without another word, cast a powerful warming charm at her father. His face reddened slightly by the intensity of the charm, but other than that, there was nothing else she can do about it.

"How did you find me…?"

"Later," Hermione said, looking around to see if there is anyone around. Brandishing her wand, she points it at the iron door, preparing herself to blast it open, "Stay back. I'll get you out of here."

"No!" Her wand was slapped out of her hand by the swift movement of her father, "You need to get out of here at once. Please… before it is too late."

Her eyes widened as she heard her wand rolling somewhere of to the side. It is by pure luck that it didn't fall off the side of the stairs, which would have made her attempt of saving her father much harder than what it already is. Twisting around, she opened her mouth, preparing to berate her father because of what he did until she saw the look on his face. Pure desperation and fear can clearly be seen in his eyes, she wonders apprehensively what had terrified her father so much to have to refuse the sure chance of escaping his prison.

"Please…"

"But… Why?!" Hermione asks, puzzled by her father's actions, "We can escape, and—"

"No! Please Hermione and listen. This castle… is alive. Everything is not as it may seem. You must leave me here and escape before you are found by… by," he said coughing. He always admired Hermione's strong spirit and courageous tenacity, but now he wished that she wasn't so headstrong.

"Whom?"

"Him"

A roar echoes through the tower, startling Hermione out of the conversation. She lurched towards her wand and grabbed it off the stone floor. Brandishing it, she spun in a circle trying to spot what sort of creature made that sound. Hair rising from her neck, she turned and pointed her wand in the general direction of a distant platform. A figure, looming on one of the staircases, stares at her across the distance. She pointed her wand, ready to strike, but the figure jumped onto another staircase, blending into the shadows.

"Whoever you are, show yourself before I do something I know you wouldn't like!"

Silence encroaches the area, the sounds of her father's pained breathing muted by the hasty beat of her heart. Through the haze of fear, she failed to hear the sounds of a figure slowly making its way towards her location. She can vaguely sense the presence circle around her though, yet wasn't approaching.

She looked around once more, "Who's there?! Who are you?"

"Who are you?" A deep voice said from the darkness, "What are you doing here?"

"Me?! I am here to get my father!" Hermione said, trying to sound braver than what she felt, "Release him!"

The voice hissed, sounding closer than before, "Your father is a thief and must be punished for trying to take what is mine."

Hermione recoiled from the bitter and angry tone of the voice. Her father wasn't a thief – she knew that. The mere idea of this person talking badly of her father is maddening. Rising up to his defense and momentarily forgetting her fear, she responded viciously, her outrage evident in her voice, "He is not a thief! How dare you make false accusations on my father's character?" He would never do something like—

"He stole a rose."

Hermione widened her eyes and whipped her head back to stare at her father, who has lowered his face in shame. Guilt flooding her chest, she looked back in the direction of the voice.

"I was the one who requested the rose. If someone had to be punished… it should be me."

Her father stared in abject horror at what she just said, "Hermione, what are you saying! Please leave… I can handle this on my own. There is no need for you to suffer for something that you did not do."

"But I am the one who requested the rose! If anyone should be punished, it should be me. And anyway," she turned back to look at the figure, still hidden in the darkness, "isn't this too hard a punishment for picking up a single flower? A bit of an overreaction, don't you think?"

"I received eternal damnation for one." The voice said bitterly, "He won't be harmed in my care, just merely locked away," the voice said colder than ever and closer than what it had been before. "Now… do you still want to take your fathers' place?"

Hermione stuttered, not knowing what to say. It seemed that either way, one of them is going to be locked up in this tower, while the other will be let off. Glancing at the state of her father, pale and haggard, it was easy to make the decision.

She turned back towards the direction of the voice. If she was going to be throwing away her life, at least she should have the decency to stare at the dealer in his face.

"Show yourself!" Hermione demanded.

Her father recoiled away from the prison door in fright. Although she can hear some shuffling from the figure, no other movement or reaction can be heard. Frowning, she turned and grabbed the candelabrum from the ledge and thrusts the candle forward. Blinded from the light for a few seconds, her eyes go wide as she clearly sees the appearance of the creature she was talking to.

A massive humanoid creature with large curved horns protrudes from the side of its head, black, unkempt fur covering every expanse of skin. Towering above her, she can see muscles bulging against the ragged shirt and cloak he is wearing. She cannot clearly see its hands, but she can hazard a guess that the creature has claws based on how large his fist looked clenched against his side, all the while a tail swishing from the back, scraping the floor slightly.

She recoiled, fear coursing wildly in her veins. She has half the mind to curse the thing silly and get out. She may have a soft spot for sentient creatures, but this- this just screams malicious. Hand itching to raise her wand, she was about to make her attack when she really saw the look on his face.

His face may have been covered in fur, features distorted to truly resemble a beastly façade, yet the only part of him that seems human are his eyes. She gasps, never having seen eyes that beautiful before. Green vibrant eyes look back at her, deep and soulful. Flickered with pain, she felt saddened by how intensely those emotions show in his eyes.

Then the moment left. Eyes narrowed and clouded with rage, the creature roared, "Choose!"

Hermione recoiled backward, hurt. How cruel and heartless must a person be to not have a single speck of compassion and kindness left in his soul? Her father trapped in a prison cell all because of her simple request - a request that should never have resulted in such a precarious situation. To be punished for that and actually having to barter her safety for the safety of her father… It is just unbelievable. And all that, for a single rose?

Narrowing her eyes, she opened her mouth, about to retort again when she heard her father cough behind her. Turning around, she sees that her father has moved near the grated doors, hunched over and clenching the bars of the prison door.

"Hermione… please don't do this. I lost your mother… and I do not want to lose you" He opened his eyes, about to say more when he descended into a severe coughing fit, desperately clenching his chest with his fist.

Gritting her teeth, she turned back towards the monstrous creature and looked at him straight in the eyes. His eyes remained cold… unflinching.

She scowled at him. How cruel must you be, to be unmoved or even feel guilty of what is happening in front of him?

Her mind whirling a mile a minute, she looked straight at the beast and relaxed, "Alright," she glanced at her father, "I'll leave. But I need a minute to be alone with him."

The beast responded by scoffing as he turned his back to her. He calmly started making his way up the stairs, ignoring the shocked gasp which fell off her lips, "Are you really so cold-hearted that you won't allow a daughter to kiss her father goodbye for the last time?"

The beast pauses in his gait, seemingly listening to what she was saying. Relived that she had managed to somehow get a reaction out of him, she pleaded with her eyes, begging him to listen.

"All I want is a minute with my father… can't you at least grant that?"

He turned towards Hermione, slowly walking in stride towards her. She stood her ground, soldering herself to school her emotions off her face. After all, it won't be good to jeopardize her little plan, right?

Intrigued by her defiance, the beast prowled towards her, making Hermione more and more scared that it would not work. Her face leveled with his chest, she closes her eyes as the beast raised his claws. Bracing herself for retaliation, the last thing she expected was for a groaning noise which can be heard from the door.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at the beast, who had reached high above her head to pull down an iron lever, unlocking the door. Something passed through the beast's eyes, but before she was able to identify it, it was gone. He gestured for her to enter.

"When the door closes," he warned, "it will not open again."

Without another word, Hermione rushed inside the prison cell and embraced her father with everything she had. Eyes glistening, she buried her face into her father's neck.

"I should have been with you… This would have never-" a lone tear escaped. Her father gently grasped her shoulders and pulled her away until they were eye to eye, wiping the tear with the pads of his thumb.

"The past is in the past… there is nothing we can do about it." His eyes roaming across her features, imprinting her visage in his mind, he smiled sadly at her.

"Please listen to me Hermione, leave me here. I am old… and you have your whole life ahead of you. You are still young. You have all of the time in the world to do anything you want and be whatever you want," He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, the same way he did when she was a little child, "Leave this wrenched place, explore the world and don't you dare let their words change who you are. I am glad to have raised a wonderful woman and one day, whenever you find someone who deserves you and will cherish you… hold on to him with all your heart. Live for me… will you? I'll always be there… even if you won't see me."

"What are you saying?!" Hermione said in disbelief, "I… I won't—you will be there for all of that and more. Don't you dare speak as if… this is the last time? It…" taking a deep breath, she looked at her father, really looking at him; her eyes roaming across his features, from his eyes to his cheeks, all the way to the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and his graying hair.

It seemed to hit Richard that this might as well be the last time he will ever see his daughter. Eyes flooded with tears he opened his mouth—

"That was more than a minute," the beast said, his harsh voice cutting through both Hermione and Richard, "it is time for you to go."

Hermione clung to her father, relishing in his embrace for one last time.

"Now!"

"I love you, Hermione," Richard said, "don't be afraid."

"I love you too…" Hermione said, leaning forward and gently kissing him on the cheek. She maneuvered her body so that her back was to the cell door, her hands resting against both of his shoulders.

"… and I am not afraid," she gave her father the most brilliant smile she can muster. Giving him one last hug, she whispered into his ears, "and I will escape, I promise."

Not giving her father the time to respond, she pivoted her body and pushed her father through the door just as the beast slams it shut. Richard tripped to the ground, devastated by what Hermione had just done. The beast appeared confused, looking curiously through the bars at Hermione.

"You… took his place. Why?" the beast said gruffly, confusion is evident in his eyes.

Hermione answered without hesitation, "He is my father."

The beast shook his head and made his way towards the fallen man, who has been sobbing on the ground, "He is a fool," he glanced at Hermione, and retorted bitterly, "and so are you."

Without another word, the beast dragged her father away. Hermione ran towards the bars and grasped them in her hands, knuckles turning white. Stifling a sob that threatened to escape her throat, she cried out.

"Don't hurt him!"

Through the latticework, Hermione sees the beast and her father disappear down the corridor, out of sight. She rushed to the open stone window and watched the beast carry her father down the spiral staircase of the prison tower. In the distance, she heard the sound of the metal door close shut.

Waiting until she was sure she was alone, and only when silence descended did she finally slump on the cold stone ground.

As the tears fell, she curled into herself with one thought stuck in her head: what will happen to her?


	9. Chapter VIII

The sun was setting at the horizon and Hermione was staring at her necklace, playing with the little sphere as it flutters about near her. Her tears have dried out a while ago, and although remnants remained on her face, she had calmed down significantly since.

Staring woodenly at the walls around her, she curled further into herself. She had already attempted breaking out of the prison cell she is in, but everything failed. From the simple unlocking charm to the more destructive blasting hex, nothing made a dent. It was just her luck to be stuck in a cell that, for all intents and purposes, seems to be warded extensively against any attempts at escape.

Glaring at the window, she again cursed her luck for being stuck in a high tower. Honestly, in the novels and books, all prison facilities mentioned are either located in a dungeon, or on an unplottable island off the coast of some shore. It just had to be in a tower. Exhaling forcefully, she leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes.

Huddling in the corner, she thought of her father who should have left the woods by now. Grief filled face flashed in her mind, Hermione narrowed her eyes. She would escape this forsaken place as soon as possible, and reunite with her father. It was a fact. The only issue is how. And anyway, if she was to escape this place, the first order of business would be to get out of this prison cell.

As soon as she thought that, a groaning sound emanated just outside her cell. Her head snapped to the direction of the sound as the cell door swung open. Panicking, she grabbed the first thing she saw, the stool she had been sitting on, and held it high above her head, fearing the beast might be back.

"Good evening young lady! I shall apologize for my… masters' appalling actions, but he has been in a nasty mood these days."

Cautiously, Hermione made her way closer to the open door, careful to barely make any sound as she tiptoed her way across the room. "Nasty?" she snorted, "Well, considering what happened, I think that is an understatement."

An arm-reach away from the door, she held her weapon high above her head, ready to attack the person who oh so graciously opened the door for her. She heard a distinct groaning sound coming from the side of the door. Although she cannot see the person who was making those sounds, through the light of a nearby torch, she could distinctly identify a human silhouette.

A mercy, that. Hermione shivered, remembering the hideous and beastly appearance of her… host.

"Well, never thought I would say this so soon…"

Slowly she made her way out the door towards the source of the sound—

"… but I really need to oil my joints."

—And saw no one there.

Eyes darting everywhere, she turned in a circle trying to spot the person who has graciously opened the door for her. No one was in sight.

"Hey, look! Up here!"

Looking around once more, she finally manages to spot the source of the noise. A candelabrum, or to be more specific, an animated candelabrum, seemed to be waving at her while precariously hanging off the lever.

Hermione blinked, staring at it. The candelabrum stared back, grinning at her. With a shriek, she threw the stool, hitting it with all her might. It grunted as it lost its grip on the handle and clattered to the stone floor.

Walking backwards, she pulled out her wand and was about to blast the thing away, when she hesitated. It wouldn't do good to attack what seems to be a sentient creature. And it had gracious enough to open the door for her.

Still…

"You know, this reminds me of that one time when—"

… That did not stop her from hitting the thing again with the stool, which had rolled back towards her after the first hit.

A loud clang echoed throughout the tower, and what light there was died when she threw the stool at the candelabrum again.

Slowly backing into the prison cell, her mind going a mile a minute, she stares transfixed as the first candle was relit, then the second. She made out eyes and a rudimentary face etched on the design, just as the candelabrum lit the last candle.

It stood up, and sending her a rakish smile, looked on the damage that she has done to the stool.

"You know, it is considered rude to hit a gentleman who was only trying to help," it looked at the broken stool on the ground, "that was a great quality you know! Do you know how hard it is to fix things once they are broken in this place? Very hard, I must say."

"Sorry," Hermione deadpanned.

"It's alright, I forgive you," it said, waving her apology away. "Now my dear lady… Shall I escort you to your room?"

"My room? But I thought…"

"Oh, were you really going to listen to that dour man?" The candelabrum scoffed, "We are gentlemen! We do not treat ladies like that. Always have a flair for the dramatic, that one."

Hermione stood there, not really understanding what was happening. True, she may be trapped in this castle, but the short duration should not have caused her to lose her mental facilities that quickly. Still…

"… What is going on here…?" Hermione asked, eyeing the enchanted object, "And what are you?"

"Oh, me?" The candelabrum said standing straighter, puffing its chest. With an elegant and downright aristocratic bow, he stood up and introduced himself, "I am Sirius Black from the Noble and Ancient House of Black. You can call me Sirius. And who might you be young lady?"

"I… am Hermione Granger, a second-generation magical from the House of Granger," she slowly enunciated. Tilting her head, her mind went back to the genealogy book she read multiple times. Remembering most of the family trees of multiple ancient families, she cannot quite remember any details of the House of Black.

She paused and gave the candelabrum, Sirius, another look, "Were you human?"

"Why yes, Miss Granger! How astute of you to figure that out so soon," He said, his flames flickering brighter.

Taking out her wand, Hermione pointed it at the direction of Sirius and cast the most invasive diagnostic charm she knew just to be sure. Ignoring the panicked flickering of Sirius, she finished her cast and read the results, alarmed to see that although everything is fine, there seemed to be a severe time and intent-based curse cast on him.

"You… are cursed."

"I think that was rather obvious Miss Granger," Sirius said, crossing his arms, "I wasn't always a candelabrum. Now before we continue this delightful topic, allow me to escort you to your room. Understandably, this must have been a very tiring day—"

"An understatement"

"—so I'll understand your need for rest."

Hermione opened her mouth and was about to retort. Yet… Looking at the serious face of the human candelabrum, she felt that if she were to object and make a run for it, the beast would somehow catch her and throw her back to the prison cell. And now that she has calmed down somewhat, she can recognize the signs her body is giving her; for she was exhausted beyond belief.

For now, she is trapped with no means of escape. It would be best to accept all offers of hospitality and help in this place. Eventually, though…

"Alright, please do."

Sirius brightened up, and bowed, "My pleasure. Now, if you would be so kind as to carry me down? I fear that if I were to trip, the damage would be permanent…"

Bending down, Hermione reached for the base of the candelabra but hesitated. She still has half the mind to just run back down, but being so close to the candelabrum, it is rather easy for her to see the earnest expression etched on his face.

"Well, go on."

With the prompting, she went to grab the legs when the bottom half twisted to resemble that of a normal candelabrum. In fact, if she weren’t mistaken, the design would be the same as the candelabrum that she had used to find the prison cell in the first place.

"Now, ready Miss?"

* * *

Walking down the spiral staircase, Hermione's eyes darted here and there. With Sirius in one hand and her wand in the other, she slowly made her way to the bottom. Every step of the way, Sirius continued to babble about the history of the place, hoping to pipe the interest of the girl he is with.

"… and that is why this tower is called the Scarlet Tower; although that wasn't the only major incident that occurred in this place. A couple of centuries ago I believe, there was—"

"You know," Hermione piped, finally have reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, "you are awfully talkative for a lighting stick."

Said lighting stick paused in its monologue, shocked to have been interrupted. "Oi—"

"I keep telling him that, but he just won't listen," a tired voice responded, "Sometimes I think that his mouth should have been sealed shut. Heaven knows how many times he almost drove me mad from his yapping."

Face white, she pointed her wand in the direction of the sound, eyes darting everywhere trying to find the source. A clock, with an intricate wolf design on its front, wobbled towards them, looking as if it was out of breath from the long walk. As Hermione watched, the clock stopped right in front of her and tiny sounds of whirring gears noticeably calmed down.

"Now," the clock said, staring pointedly at her, "why is she out of her cell? The… master forbad us of interacting with her. You know…"

"Shush!" Sirius said, waving one of his arms. Turning to the mildly curious woman, "Excuse me Miss, but can you give my friend and I a small amount of privacy?"

Not knowing what else to do and knowing she would risk bumping into their 'master' she nodded and gently put the candelabrum down. She watched curiously as the lighting stick and clock wobbled over to one end of the tower, just out of earshot. She considered listening in onto their obviously private conversation but refrained from doing so in the end. If there is something that needed to be said, she would figure it out eventually.

* * *

"What on earth are you doing?" Hissed the clock, gears going into overdrive, "Do you know what _he _would say if he knows what you are doing? He gave specific orders to not let her out of the cell. You know that! Are you really—"

"Look," Sirius said, glaring at the mantle clock, "do you want to spend the rest of your life as a clock or do you want to become a man again? She may be the one to break the curse…"

He looked behind his friends' figure to see the woman in question, looking pale sitting down on the bottommost stair. Taking in her jutted chin and stubborn posture, he could tell this was a woman who might very well free them from their curse. He knew that even with all of the Lord's dalliances in the past, this woman is cut from a different cloth than all of them. Obviously wild and free-spirited, she might have the capabilities to reel in the Lord and his fierce temper, and maybe, just maybe, free them from the curse they are laboring under.

"… and that won't happen if she is stuck in that Merlin forsaken prison cell."

He looked back at his friend, "We need her... But she does not need us. If we can make her see him in a different light, even if it's by a little…"

The clock grumbled, seeing there is nothing that can be done to quell his friends' decision. The desperation is evident in the tone of his voice. He cursed Sirius's romantic nature; it is obvious he is going to try his hardest to play matchmaker with the woman and him.

He sighed and used one of his handles to pat one of Sirius's arms, "Alright, I will help. But know this;" he said, ignoring the beaming smile Sirius threw his way, "we must keep quiet about this, and for the time being, make sure the interactions between both of them are limited. Heaven knows how disastrous it will be if he found out that she was let out barely a day into her imprisonment."

"I knew you would understand!" Sirius said, his flames blazing brighter than ever.

"Yes yes…" the clock sighed, "I am great and patient and all that drabble. In the meantime though," he said turning slightly to observe the woman, "what is her name?"

"Oh, her?" Sirius grinned, "Her name is Hermione Granger, and if we are lucky enough, she will be our salvation…"


	10. Chapter IX

"I apologize for leaving you stranded for so long," Hermione startled as she heard Sirius's voice trailing closer. Looking down, she saw him walking towards her, followed closely by the mantle clock.

"It is alright. Not like there is anything else I can do here," she said. Standing up, she shifted from one foot to another, wondering what is going to happen next. Eyeing the mantle clock once more, "If I may be blunt, but who are you supposed to be?"

"Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner," the clock said, glancing at Sirius briefly, "I am Remus Lupin of the Ancient House of Lupin, but you may call me Remus. And you must be Miss Hermione Granger, correct?"

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you."

"Now," Remus said, his gears audibly shifting, "I don't know about you, but I think it is imperative for us to escort you to your room; best not to linger, correct?"

Hermione nodded, wondering what on earth must have happened for the people in the castle to be reduced to this. Before she could utter a word though, the clock – Remus – stumbled out of the iron door. She quickly picked up Sirius and making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, followed the clock.

Holding Sirius, Hermione followed Remus across a stone walkway high above the grounds. Her eyes darted, looking for an adequate escape route, but as far as the eyes could see, there was none. The castle was large, and given its state of disarray, she wouldn’t be surprised if there were creatures lurking within the castle walls. The hedged maze below barely caught her eye as it could not help but she eyed the woods appraisingly. They are vast and stretched as far as the eye could see – and was also rather intimidating.

She hadn’t had time to truly admire the architecture before but now, with the sun slowly creeping down the horizon, the foreboding castle seemed more... lonely. To be fair, the castle wasn't making her feel warm and fuzzy but, compared to what she felt, trapped within that prison cell, it was marginally better.

Although, she pondered staring contemplatively at her companions, she wondered if that has something to do with the company she was keeping. True, their appearance may be startling and would take time to get used to, but she was sure she would get used to it if given enough time; if she didn't escape before then.

"Well," Sirius said, as if sensing her thoughts, "I must apologize for the way we have been introduced, but I hope you'll forgive us for scaring you so much. We know that our appearance leaves much to be desired, but hopefully that can be remedied in the near future."

He gestured with his candlelit arms to the castle in general, "You’re our guest. The castle is your home now, so feel free to go anywhere you like—"

"Can I leave?" Hermione interrupted.

Sirius looked at her wryly and sighed. "No, the moment our… master told you to stay, the wards altered to prevent you from leaving the land. You can still explore the castle and parts of the forest, but no further. If you want to leave, you will need to ask his permission, and knowing him, that won't be happening any time soon."

Her face darkened at what she was told. "So I am a prisoner then? Just as trapped here as in that cell…"

"No no! You misunderstand! You are not our prisoner! Surely, it may have seemed like that in the beginning, but now it is a completely different story!"

"That is what you say…" she said bitterly, remembering the dirty and desolate cell she was thrown in for hours until her companions freed her. She shook her head, "so, as long as I am within the boundaries of this land, I can do whatever I want? I can go anywhere within the boundaries?"

"As I said, yes you can! Everywhere you want—"

"—except the west wing."

In unison, Hermione and Sirius turned to look at the clock. But while Sirius was shooting him a barely veiled 'would-you-please-shut-up-or-else' look, Hermione stared at him in evident curiosity. She opened her mouth, and was about to ask the forbidden question, but was stopped by Remus trying to cover his slip.

"—which we do not have."

However, it was too late. Her curiosity cannot be quelled, "Why, what is in the west wing?"

"Uh…" Sirius stammered, flames flickering nervously, "nothing. Storage space… that's it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his explanation. She raised the candelabrum, illuminating another stone archway. Following its path, she can see another tower in the opposite direction of where she is going. In the distance, an eerie light can be seen coming out of one of the balconies. She could swear she saw the silhouette of a person near that light, and in the next second, an anguished cry came out of that direction. Hermione's face whitened in response.

Shivering, she lowered Sirius, hiding the light with the high walls of the bridge.

"This way, please," the candelabrum said eager to move them along.

With one last glance behind her shoulder, Hermione sighed and followed Remus as he wobbled across one corridor and down the next.

Eventually, they reached a corridor, stopping in front of a large door. Hermione's hand hovered in front of the doorknob, scared to know what lay beyond it. She saw the state of the castle and its furniture, so she dreaded knowing the state of the 'guest room'. Layers of dust and countless sad portraits, some even ripped from the seams... if the state of the room is anything like that, she would beg them to return her to the prison tower.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and opened the door—

—Into the most beautiful, magical room she's ever seen. Far more beautiful than anything she had ever imagined from one of her novels.

Slowly making her way into the room as if in a dream, Hermione's eyes feasted on its perfect details.

The entire ceiling was a painting of white clouds in a blue sky which looked so real she could have sworn they moved. Delicate golden designs resembling sun rays cascade downward to the rest of the room. The walls a delicate blue - the same as the ceiling - had the same golden designs extending throughout the area in a vine-like delicate manner. It was simple, yet the tasteful color scheme and pattern were lightly hinted in the fabrics of the furniture, from the vanity dresser and chair, to the changing curtain and chaise.

"It's… beautiful," Hermione said, after noticing Sirius and Remus looking at her expectedly.

With that, Sirius smiled broadly, while Remus nodded, his response to her reaction more contained. "Glad to be of service," Sirius said, leaping onto the white duvet. A cloud of dust burst out of the covers, making the little candelabrum cough furiously. "Oh dear, we weren’t expecting guests."

As if on cue, a feather duster swooped into the room, giving the surfaces a quick dusting. Stopping, it spotted Hermione looking at it and bowed deeply.

"Welcome to the castle! I am Marlene McKinnon, but you can just call me Marlene," the duster said, flying around Hermione, "Don't worry; I will have the room cleaned up in no time."

The feather duster moved across all surfaces, quickly clearing the layers of dust until everything shone as good as new. Satisfied with her work, she spotted Sirius lounging on the bed, covered in dust. Giggling, she flew over to him and gave him a good dusting, forcing the candelabrum to laugh uncontrollably.

"Please… Stop… I cannot… breathe…"

Marlene gasped, and held off her assault, releasing the poor candelabrum from her feathery ends. Laughing, she lands in Sirius's arms, while he twirled her on the covers, careful not to burn her with his flames. He stopped and sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. "Ah… it's been a while since I laughed so hard…"

The feather dusters delicate features smiled and leaned back. "I know honey… There wasn't any cause before, but now…"

"… Now… we have a chance." He murmured softly. Hermione averted her eyes from the romantic couple and turned her attention to the other items in the room. From what she observed, it is practically impossible to differentiate between the normal items and cursed ones.

The feather duster Marlene looks like any other feather duster, and could not be differentiated from the 'normal' ones. So, in fear of accidentally insulting another cursed human-object, she picked up a nondescript hairbrush, "Hello, what's your name?"

She waited a few moments for a response, yet none came. Tilting her head, she opened her mouth and was about to ask again when a snicker was heard behind her. She turned around and found the couple on the bed holding in their laughter. Remus, however, looked up at her puzzled, "Um… that’s a hairbrush."

Hermione hastily put the brush down. Ignoring the light snickers from behind her, she was looking around the room, when a loud snore came from behind her.

Turning around, she yelped when a particularly loud snore came from the large blue wardrobe; its drawers periodically opening and closing by themselves in time of its snores. Hermione shrieked and took a step back.

"Don't be alarmed Miss Granger," Sirius said hopping down from the bed, "This is just your wardrobe. Meet Miss Lavender Brown; a great singer!"

The wardrobe let out a long yawn.

"When she is awake of course," remarked Remus, as he walked over and nudged the wardrobe.

With a grunt, the massive wardrobe awoke. The closet doors opened, the wardrobe blinked via curtains and gave a little surprised shout when she noticed her audience. "Mr. Lupin!" she exclaimed in an overly dramatic manner, "Honestly, don't you know that a woman needs her beauty rest?"

Remus's gears jammed and he was prepared to open his mouth to reprimand the insult. But Sirius jumped in before the situation escalated. "Of course you do, my dear." He said in a soothing voice, "but we have someone for you to dress…!"

Spotting her for the first time, Lavender's gilded arms dragged Hermione towards her, disabling her from moving away. Using her gilded arms, Lavender stroked Hermione's shoulder and face. Feeling and seeing her closely, she can see that the woman in front of her can easily shine like a diamond if polished well.

And she wasn't scared to say it in her face.

"Finally!" She said with a happy cry, "a woman! Do you know when was the last time I played dress-up…?" Lavender paused and truly looked at the woman in front of her. Hermione shivered, for she felt she was being analyzed and judged.

Then she shocked Hermione by huffing in her face. Holding in a cough, she looked at Lavender, waiting to see what the verdict was.

It wasn't something she expected, though.

"I guess all the women in your town must be jealous of you. Your face…" Lavender said, delicately tracing Hermione's features with a handle, "Your eyes… There isn't much that we'll need to do to enhance your features. You are like a cut diamond, a little dusty, but with a bit of polish, will overshine everything around it."

Looking her over one last time, she smiled and inclined her head laughing giddily, "Yes! I can definitely work with this! Now, let's see…"

The front drawers open, startling Hermione as a few moths escaped. Lavender yelped as they flew away. "How embarrassing…"

Waving them away, Lavender dug into her drawer and extracted a large helter-skelter out of it. Before Hermione was able to give a shout of protest, it was placed over Hermione's head, followed by three to four dresses from all different shapes and sizes. The wardrobe proceeded to transfigure one of her handles into a pinking-shear and proceeded to cut the fabric, creating an ensemble of colors and ribbons.

Unable to move from the weight of the cloths, Hermione was somehow made to spin around. The blurred colors getting to her, she closed her eyes, praying the torture would be over soon. Feeling clothes being shifted and removed from her person, she prayed that she won't look too silly.

When the wardrobe paused to take a breath, Hermione opened her eyes and snuck a peek in the mirror across the room. To her horror, she saw that Lavender did indeed make her a dress, but it was the most unflattering thing she had ever seen.

Clashing colors, too much frill in all the wrong places… she tried spotting one good thing about the dress, if it can be even called that. Holding back a grimace, Hermione turned and caught the eye of Sirius, who was equally mortified. Her eyes widened as Sirius, Remus and Marlene itched their way towards the door. They knew it is best not to disturb Lavender whenever she is in the middle of creation.

They threw her a forced smile and quickly opened the door, "Subtle… I love it! Now if you may excuse me, I have some duties to fulfill." Grabbing Remus and Marlene, Sirius dragged them out the door, "Now my dear, if there is anything you want, don't hesitate to call us. We are at your service!"

With a deep bow, they gently closed the door, leaving Hermione alone with Lavender.

Hermione didn't hesitate. By the manner for which her questions have avoided being answered, she felt that if she was ever going to be getting answers, Lavender was going to be the one to give them to her. Turning towards her, she asked the question she had wanted to ask ever since seeing everyone cursed.

"Lavender… please tell me. How did everyone come to be like this? What happened and who cursed all of you like this …?"

As she suspected, Lavender lit up at the chance to gossip. Leaning her large frame forward, she lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper, "All it takes is a spoiled Lord and a stormy night. What happened was…"

But Lavender never finished what she was going to say, for she trailed off into a light snore.

Hermione sighed shaking her head. It does not seem she's going to be getting answers anytime soon. Ducking down, she crawled out from underneath the enormous dress, which remained standing thanks to the helter-skelter. Finally, free from the confines of the dress, she looked around the room with one thing in mind: escape.

They may have told her that she needed her hosts' permission to leave, but that did not mean she wouldn't try.

She quickly moved to the window and opened it, jumping on to the ledge. The moment her eyes registered the view below, she quickly slid backward. The drop... would have definitely died it she jumped out.

Turning back to the room she looked around and took stock of her situation. She was alone, while her only guardian was asleep.

Gazing at the mess of a dress, an idea starts taking shape.

With a grin, she walked forward, eager to start.


	11. Chapter X

Back in the village, a lamplighter was hard at work outside the tavern, lightening one of the lamps as evening turned into dusk.

Most of the villagers, at least the ones who are still awake, were all inside. Another successful day had ended, and as usual, the villagers assembled inside the tavern to relax and mingle. It is usually the perfect time Draco used to charm one of the available ladies, as if he didn't have a shortage of them anyway.

Yet today, Draco was irritated and annoyed. Here he was, sitting in his chair, in front of his fire with ladies ogling him from across the table just begging for attention. Usually, it is easy for him to distract himself thusly, yet…

"Picture it, Ron," Draco said whilst gulping another mouthful of ale, "My manor, the most lavish food ladled on the table. Children running into the dining table eager to be fed, all whilst my wife eagerly massages my tired shoulders, eagerly listening to what happened during the day..."

Ron listened to Draco's retelling, whilst inwardly wincing at how the conversation is going to end. Whenever Draco got rejected again by the village bookworm, he usually got over the sting quickly, generally before the sun sets. Yet today… Hermione must have hit Draco where it truly hurt, for he has once again, fallen into one of 'those' moods.

Plastering a smile on his face, "Ooh! I like the sound of that," Ron said, hoping to distract Draco, "What are the dishes being served and how large are the portions?"

Draco, however, ignored Ron's spiel and continued uninterruptedly, "…But what does she say to me?" he asked, clearly imagining said scenario in his head, his dreamy smile transforming into a scowl," I will never marry you Draco." He slammed his drink down, spilling some of the golden liquid on the table.

Ron flinched at the sound of the glass hitting the wood. "And what is worse?" Draco continued, ignoring everything happening around him, "Is that she had the audacity to hit me when I was adamant for her acceptance. Insulting me and refusing my hand in marriage. Does she want to become a spinster that badly?"

Draco sneered, glaring at a far off point, "I will get her… And she will be mine, no matter the cost."

Ron gulped, a shiver going down his spine; for Draco to be so transparent in his frustration and disdain regarding Hermione and his affections… It is a bad sign.

"But Draco," Ron pointed out, glancing at the girls who seem to be listening to every word with rapid attention, "there are other girls. Why don't you ask one of them your hand in marriage? Am sure they won't refuse…"

Draco barely gave them a glance. Yet, the topic has been enough to send them into a fit of giggles.

What Ron said was right. He could have any girl in the village or the next village. Merlin, he can get any girl from any village for that matter.

But that wasn't the point. That was never the point. He could have any one of them later, anytime he wanted.

Heck, he was sure that if he felt inclined to, he could have countless women as his mistresses, a veritable harem just for himself. But… "They are easy prey Ron," Draco said, his voice echoing throughout the tavern, "Abundant, and easy to catch and entrap. What I want is something unique. Something that is hard to catch, one who would give me a challenge… And Hermione is the one. The ultimate prey; eluding me all the time."

While Draco talked, the girls' flirtatious smile faded from their faces.

Slumping in his chair, he thought back on all of the times he tried to garnish Hermione's attention. Maybe he should try a different tactic? Usually, he goes directly for the daughter, but maybe… that is not the way to go. Should he go to her father and ask him to court his daughter perhaps? He may appear frosty whenever he conversed with him, but that won't deter him from attempting to get Hermione. He will get her anyway… but how could he convince her father?

Vaguely, he heard Ron trying to cheer him up, but he barely paid any attention to what exactly is being said to him. Listening to Ron listing his positive attributes can get tiring once you heard it enough times. He already knew all that was being said about him – his bravery and strength– and could practically predict what Ron was going to say about him next. He’d heard it all. He was the town hero of course; nothing about him was less than exceptional. Everyone sees that. Yet out of everyone in the village, Hermione and her father are the only ones who are unimpressed by his academic and extracurricular activities.

But still… it is frustrating to know that out of all of the women in the village, the one he wanted to call his own is the same one who wants nothing to do with him. What would it take for her to see him as some kind of hero?

Draco sighed and reached over for his ale. Finding none there, for he had drunk it all already, he looked at his companion and smiled, "Ron, if you please, can you get us more drinks?" 

* * *

Seeing the question as the order it is, Ron quickly grabbed the empty pitcher and headed towards the barmaid, handing it over for a refill. In the distance, he glanced at his friend and the people around him. The looks of reverence, the awed and love-struck looks throwing his way… He gripped the countertop and schooled his face lest his emotions start showing on his face.

It is sickening. Once upon a time, he was satisfied with what he had. He was content to sit in the sidelines, yet… ever since that accursed day when his love vanished, these negative feelings started to fester in his heart. She was the only person who cared for him and only looked at him. Now, though… even the memory of her face is blurred, and he feared that one day he would forget it completely. When he talked to others about it at first, they brushed him off, laughing at the absurdity of him being in a relationship without the rest of the villagers knowing.

He thought he was going mad, imagining people who didn't actually exist, so he drank his sorrows away. He buried himself underneath the barrel, and for a while, it worked.

It took time, but it was during that phase when he met Draco, drunk and in front of his mansion. He didn’t remember exactly what happened, but after that night, Draco took him under his wing, piecing together the remains of Ronald Weasley.

By being beside the village 'good boy', he started finding himself. Going hunting, dining… they did everything together. Walking side-by-side through the village, Ron truly started to feel that he was being noticed and remembered.

Many women threw themselves at him, yet he never felt inclined to entertain them the way Draco tended to do. Whenever he was about to fall to the thrall of one of them, a pang of pain resonates in his chest, reminding him and preventing him from doing so. The villagers did question his orientation, but he ignored it.

Ron truly was grateful for having found a friend in Draco. Without him, he was sure he would have died in a ditch somewhere, wallowing in pain. He always took Draco's side and followed his lead all the time. But… There are times, like now, where he wondered…

Ron shook his head, not even wanting to continue that thought. Taking the filled pitcher of ale, he turned around to see a noticeably happier and composed Draco sitting in his seat, chatting with one of the ladies.

Shaking his head, he was making his way to his friend when— 

* * *

—the door of the tavern flew open. Eyes blown wide, clothes torn, and hair wild and unkempt, Richard staggered through the door, coughing uncontrollably. Everyone in the tavern stopped what they were doing, laughter halted as they curiously stared at the haggard man. 

"Help!" Richard said when his coughing finally subsided, "Somebody… Please help me! We have to…"

The tavern keeper rushed and grabbed Richards's shoulders, steadying him as he made his way to the center of the large room. Quickly grabbing a pitcher full of water, he passed it on to Richard, who immediately gulped it down. Slamming it on the table, he widely looked around, noticing the many eyes looking curiously at him.

"Please… there is no time to lose! My daughter—"

Gesturing one of the bar maidens to fill the pitcher again, he looked at the haggard man, who was gravitating of the fire that roared in the fireplace. Seeing how disheveled he was, the tavern master tried to calm him down, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down Richard," he said, guiding the man to the fireplace, rekindling it, "You look like you have been put through the wringer. What happened?"

Richard looked up and seemingly has noticed the man who was helping him for the first time, shook his head, "My daughter… She—trapped in a dungeon—"

Draco sat straighter in his armchair, interest piqued.

"A dungeon? Are you sure?" The tavern master asked.

"Of course I am sure!" Richard snapped, glaring at the man with a wild look in his eyes. "Didn't you hear me? My daughter has been taken prisoner by a beast! A horrible, monstrous beast!"

Shocked by the man's words, the whole inn went silent, only for a few seconds of course, before it was broken. A lone snicker, and the next thing Richard knew, he was surrounded by peals of laughter, all directed at him. His face turning red, he yelled, instantly silencing them.

"My daughter is a prisoner – scared and alone – and all you folks do is laugh?!"

"Of course we would," one of them said, "what is the next thing you are going to tell us; that she is trapped in a castle we don't know about?" The villagers laughed at the mere idea.

"She is!" Richard insisted, looking desperately into the sea of faces before him. "The castle is hidden in the woods. Does anyone of you remember?" A vagrant, sitting at the far side of a bench, was the only one not to laugh. Richard noticed, and went to the man and pleaded with him, "Do you remember? A massive castle, with a bridge leading up to it?"

The vagrant nodded, "I remember that. Everyone here seems to have forgotten that fact, but I know there is one."

"See!" Richard turned to look at the crowd, "He remembers! Why don't you believe me?"

Someone in the crowd snorted, and everyone burst into laughter. "What," one said, "Do you really believe we would take the words of a nobody? Are you out of your mind? You may have had too much to drink on the way here." Someone passed a bottle into his hand, "drink this. Maybe once you have sobered up, you will know what you are saying is nothing but delusions."

"I am not crazy!" Richard said, throwing the bottle into the hearth. "The beast is real! Why don't you understand?!" Looking around at the dispassionate faces, he begged, "Will no one help me?"

Sitting in his chair, staring at the spectacle, Draco stayed silent. Richard was the only man in the village who never liked or tolerated him. He also was also the man who always prevented him from getting the one thing he didn't have, his daughter. As he continued to beg and plead, an idea started to form in his head, which would not only make him look like a hero – again, but also secure the path for him to get Hermione as a wife at last.

Quickly, he got to his feet. Striding towards the center of the room, he clasped his hand on Richard's shoulder, "I'll help you, Richard," he said grandly.

Ron quirked his head, curious to see where this is going. It is not often Draco showed his generous side, and even then, not without any sort of gain.

Feeling the stare of his friend boring through his back, Draco turned around and caught Ron's eye. With a wink, he mouthed watch me and turned back at Richard, who was staring at him with a look he never thought to see in his eyes directed at him.

"You will?" Richard asked, not believing that out of all the people to offer their help, it was Draco. Everyone disregarded him, and from the look in their eyes, were about to throw him out. They did not believe him yet… the person who gave his daughter the most grief was the only one to offer his aid. 

Draco addressed the room at large, momentarily ignoring Richards shocked face. "Everyone! Stop making fun of this man at once! You can clearly see he is desperate for some help!" Instantly, the laughter died. Draco nodded. He really was the most respected man in town.

Richard fell to the ground on his knees and wept, relieved that someone was listening to what he was saying. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy… Thank you."

Pulling the man to his feet, he lightly brushed non-existent dirt off his shoulders and straightened the coat the man was wearing. Holding in a grimace when Richard hugged him, he lightly pulled the man away and gave him a terse smile, conveying his support. "Don't thank me yet, Richard…" he said, "Once we return with your daughter, then you can thank me," Draco pointed to the exit of the tavern, "Lead us to the beast."

Still mumbling his thanks, and ignoring the light chatter in the inn, Richard headed out of the tavern. Draco, feeling everyone's eyes on him, summoned his red coat and pulled it on in one motion. Hearing a few sighs from the girls, he puffed his chest and followed the old man. The other patrons, seeing their most respected man heading out, stood up to follow him, not knowing what is going on.

Ron was the first to follow, easily keeping pace with his friend. Glancing at the crowd following them, he leaned forward and whispered in Draco's ear. "I see what you are doing here…" Draco smirked and nodded. He knew his friend would figure out what he was planning, he always did.

For now though, he had to make sure Richard is non-the-wiser. If all goes according to plan, Hermione will be his by the end of the week.


	12. Chapter XI

Inside the castle, the situation is calmer than that of the village... but not by much. Ever since word has spread that there was a girl in the castle, everyone ran around, in an effort to properly prepare the castle for their guest. The last time someone was invited into the castle was during that infamous night, which was so long ago. Everyone was doing their best preparing and cleaning the castle as best as they could.

It was hard work sure, for they no longer could use their wands ever since that night, but it was pure mercy that the enchantress allowed a limited amount of magic to be expelled through their transfigured bodies. So with feverant enthusiasm, they cleaned the castle in the hopes that sometime soon, their unwitting guest will eventually call this castle her home.

However, unlike the rest of the objects who were flying and running back and forth in the middle of their preparations, a pair of identical teacups stare at the skeptical wondering what on earth was going on. They have tried to eavesdrop on the hushed conversations between the servants in the castle, but whenever they came closer, the conversations stopped and they ran away before they were able to ask what was going on.

They felt they were the only ones who weren't in on the big news. So, they decided to... play around. One smirked at the other and the next thing they did, they poured some bright orange tea on the floor. Hiding behind a stone gargoyle, they counted down.

"Three..."

"Two..."

"One."

A small bomb detonated as some of the servants ran off; drenched in the substance they have brewed in their frames.

"FRED AND GEORGE! COME DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW AND EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!"

They grinned as they hopped out of their hiding spot, peaking down to see their mother-turned-teapot glaring at them from atop her moving tray. They mentally high fived themselves before jumping down.

Steam rising from the tip of her teapot, Mrs. Weasley glared her two boys, as they landed haphazardly atop her tray. Staring at her with their unrepentant eyes, she sighed as she prepared herself for the lecture she must give out. "Now you mischievous heavens, do you know what you have done!?"

The two teacups glanced at each other and grinned, "What do you mean mother dearest?"

"I cannot exactly remember what we have done recently?"

The teapot rolled her eyes. "Oh don't give me that puppy looks you little rascals, I know exactly what you have done," she said, staring pointedly at the floor. Some enchanted napkins have already started to clean up the mess, as well as the splatters on the walls. It is pure mercy that none of the liquid spilled over onto the carpet. 

They both stared at the dirty floor and gasped, "Oh no! What happened here?"

"Who have dared to spill all that... orange? Is it orange Fred?"

"It is brother dear,"

"Alright, the orange tea on the pristine white floor!"

Fred sighed as they shook their frame, "But it is not like anything special is going on for you to yell at us like that mom."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed as she looked at her boys. She was cautious not to inform the two teacups in fear of them running amok and causing an unknown amount of trauma to their guest. The moment Sirius and Remus told her about Hermione and how she came into the castle, her heart – or figuratively speaking – reached out to the poor girl. She made sure to tell the two veritable heads of the castle to spread the word that Fred and George were not to know about their guest until she is more comfortable.

Knowing them, she wouldn't put it past them to cause enough havoc to cause the poor girl to remain locked inside her room, refusing to go out. Heaven knows what the two boys had done to Mundungus Fletcher when they managed to find him. Ever since they found the thief, who had apparently was in the castle that night, in the bathroom, he had barred anyone from entering it, preferring to lock himself in there for the duration of the curse than be subjected to whatever the boys did to him.

She did not want that to happen to their guest. If she decided to lock herself up, there would be no chance for the curse to be broken. Resigned, she turned to the two boys and she shook her frame.

"Fred, George. Listen carefully to me," her tone froze the two teacups in place, "We have a very special guest in the castle—"

"But… The last time someone came—"

"—we became like this."

Both boys frowned among each other and turned to look at their mother once more, "Are you sure she is safe?"

"Of course she is safe," she said, steam rising, "now, don't you dare interrupt me again. Our guest is scared and alone in her room. This may be our only shot, so please… For the love of Merlin, whenever you two meet her, don't scare her off."

The two boys looked at each other and nodded. They may like to joke around and all, but that does not mean they are that suicidal. There was barely enough time for the curse to be broken. If there is a chance, even a small one, for them to be free again, they would do it.

"Of course mother, whatever you say,"

"That would not mean that we won't have any fun of course,"

"But we will hold back for now."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, grateful that they at least had some sense, "Thank you dears. Now, if you two would be so kind, we have a lot of things to do in the castle and barely enough time to do it."

"Oh come off it Molly! There is nothing much they can do!" a voice piped in. Sirius walked over to the trio, having witnessed the whole spectacle with barely feigned amusement. "Fred, George—"

The two tea cups straightened up, eager to know what their idol is had to say.

"—I will give you both a little challenge. I dare you to figure out in which room the girl is in. You are not allowed to ask for any help in your search. If you manage to find the room before we come over," he leaned forward, making sure that Molly is unable to hear them, "I will personally tell you about the time my friends and I pranked a certain greasy git, and how we did it."

The two boys gasped. With a grin, and before their mother would put a stop to it, both boys hopped off the tray and made their way to the door.

"Bye mom! We got to go-"

"–you know, things to do... stuff to find."

And the next moment they were out.

"Boys!" Molly screeched, "Come back her—"

"Oh leave them be," Sirius said, waving them away, "I seriously doubt they would be any help around here."

Molly huffed, moving her tray closer to the stove, "You give them too much leeway Sirius. How on earth do you expect them to ever grow up?"

Remus sighed, his mechanical face twitching somewhat, "They will eventually Molly, give them time. Let them enjoy their youth, or…" he peered down his own figure, "at least, what remains of it. There is no need to hurry them on. They are already men in their own rights. Childish, like a certain someone I know—"

"Oi!"

"—but there will come a time where they would be forced to grow up. No need to speed up the progress in my opinion."

Sirius nodded, his flames flickering somewhat, "Right! Just as Moony said! I used to be just like them, wreaking havoc and causing chaos everywhere I went," he smiled at the spot where the two boys disappeared to, "they really remind me of myself… And I turned out all right! A perfect role model! "

Sirius grinned. Remus facepalmed and shook his head, "Barely Sirius. Occasionally, I wonder if—"

"Nope, not again," Sirius deadpanned. "Don't remind me when you used to—"

"Oh, that is enough you two!" Molly interrupted. "Less yapping, and more working! We have a lot of things to do, and nothing will be finished if you two continue to bicker again!"

Yelping, they both shut up.

* * *

He entered the dining room and headed towards the end of the long table. Tattered cloak trailing listlessly off his large frame, he grimaced as he passed by. So many chairs… all ready for someone to sit there, yet… they never would.

Once upon a time, he may have felt lonely, wondering why no one would sit beside him. But now, it is completely normal for him to sit all by his lonesome. It has been years since anyone sat with him. Even though there are countless people in the castle, no one would even dare to come and sit with him.

Shaking his massive head, he sat down, surprised to find flatware and crystal, instead of the pot that he had gotten accustomed to eating out of, set before him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked up to find another place setting at the other end of the long table.

When he noticed the candles in the center, giving off a romantic feel, he swats his own place setting off the table, delicate china breaking on the pristine floor. They couldn't possibly be…

Face contorted in rage, he bellowed from the dining room—

* * *

— causing Sirius and Remus to turn in place. Sirius's flames flickering nervously, he looked at the door to the kitchen anticipating their 'master' to come through at any moment.

"See Sirius?" Remus said, his gears clanking within his frame, "I knew he would figure out what is going on eventually and what do you know? He already did. "

"Now now Moony," Sirius said rolling his eyes, "Don't be such a worrywart. Everything will be fine. Just… Let me do the talking." Remus nodded assured that Sirius will handle the bulk of the conversation. He may be good at what he does – keeping track of time, and once upon a time teaching – he is the worst at direct confrontations. He may not be as bad as one of his old friends, but still…

Doors of the kitchen bursting open, the Beast entered - his green eyes stormy as he took in the assembled staff in front of him. Sniffing the air, he can tell that food is being prepared on the stove, and as if it was even possible, his green eyes grew even stormier, piercing the staff with his gaze.

"You are making her dinner?" he growled

"Well…" Sirius said in his most tactful voice, "Who knows what would happen to you if you spent any more time by yourself, and… seeing as how she is also alone… We thought you both might appreciate the company."

"Yes, as Sirius said!" Remus added, "We already did our best to make her more comfortable. We have moved her to the suite in the East Wing—"

"You gave her a bedroom?!" the Beast shouted, "Didn't I order you not to interact with her? Or have you suddenly become selectively deaf?"

Remus backpedaled, "No no, _he _gave her a bedroom," he said pointing at the candelabrum in question.

"That is true," Sirius pointed out, "But you did once tell us that the whole castle is your prison, so… It wouldn't be remiss to move the woman to a different part it, not to mention," he smirked, unfazed by the glare in the Beasts eyes, "if the girl is the one who is going to break the curse, maybe you can use this dinner to… charm her."

Remus seeing where this is going added, "What he said is true. You have had plenty of experience in the past charming women left, right and center. I am sure that if you put in a little effort, you would succeed with this lady as well."

"Lady you say," the Beast scoffed, then began to pace back and forth, "I am sure she is the furthest thing from being a lady as it is." He narrowed his eyes, boring onto the two antiques. "The whole idea is ridiculous anyway, _charm the prisoner…"_

"But you must try," Sirius said, his previous desperation showing slightly in his voice, "With every passing day we become less human. There is barely any time left before the curse finishes its course. Please…"

The Beast, however, ignored that. Even though he was the only one who can right everything, he was adamant not to do anything about it. It was already too late, he thought. Stubbornly, "She is the daughter of a common thief," he said, pointing that out. "I may be hideous, but I have standards."

"Standards you say?!" Sirius said. He was about to make his way towards the 'master', about to give him a piece of his mind when his friend held him back. Looking at Remus, who shook his head, he took a deep breath, his flames noticeably calming.

Mrs. Weasley, who have been listening to the whole conversation, finally spoke up, "Oh you can't judge people by who they are related to, now can you?"

She did not need to say anymore, for that loaded statement was enough to give him pause. The rest of the staff cringed as they expected the Beast to retaliate at any moment now. But to their surprise, he didn't.

He locked eyes with the teapot. He knew exactly what it was she was referring to. It was underhanded… but true.

With a resigned grunt, he stalked out of the kitchen. Sirius, Remus and Mrs. Weasley, exchanged glances, shocked to see this development at all. They smiled among themselves, some hope finally rising in their frames.

Until they all had a sudden realization… then they rushed after him. After all, he couldn't be left by himself to ask the girl to dinner.


	13. Chapter XII

Standing in front of the door to Hermione's room – not like he approved of it anyway – he lifted his fisted claw over its surface. Glaring at his staff, he knocked on the door twice.

"You will join me for dinner… That is not a request." He gruffly said.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Sirius muttered shaking his head. They all managed to catch up before anything drastic were to happen. That does not mean that nothing bad is going to happen now, but at least the chances of success has risen. "My boy… if you would please be more…"

On her service trolley, Molly coughed, "Gentle. The girl lost her father and her freedom in one day. With everything that has happened, it will be no wonder if she is sitting in that room crying her heart out. A small amount of kindness will help you in the long run." 

"That is true," Sirius agreed, hurrying to move to the next point once he noticed the grimace on his face. Any mention of the K-word is a sure way to leave Harry in a mood for days. The closer Miss Granger and their 'master', Lord Harry Potter get together, the higher the chances for the curse to be broken, not that there is an abundant amount of it anyway. "The girl in there is most likely scared to death. Can you try to be more… I don't know, charming?"

Harry sighed, staring at the door morosely. He may have been charming once, but that felt like ages ago. He is as rusty as it could be. Glancing at the eager faces of the ones before him, he held back a biting retort. To have them actively giving advice… Still, he knocked again.

* * *

Unbeknownst to everyone on the other side, the moment Hermione was left alone in her room with the slumbering Lavender, she had been actively planning her escape. She gathered the atrocious dress, and with an ease that could have come from a practiced seamstress, reverted the state of the dress back to what it was previously. 

It took time and effort to do so, for although she had seen Lavender working her magic on the fabric to make the dress, the fabric in itself was magic resistant. Still, it took time but she eventually managed to accomplish what she set out to do. Once she had gathered as much of the fabric as she could - even taking some from Lavender's opened drawers - she went back to her task of snipping and weaving the long strands into a makeshift rope.

Having done as much as she could, she went to the window and threw the makeshift rope out of it. Looking outside, she was just able to tell that the rope reaches halfway down the tower. Nodding to herself, she turned around to see how much rope she still had in her room.

Hearing a few knocks on the door, she paused what she was doing to stare at it, glad to know that she had the right idea to lock it from the inside.

She opened her mouth—

* * *

"Just a minute." Hermione's voice was muffled through the thick door. 

"You see, there she is!" Sirius said happily, "Now, remember… Be gentle,"

"Kind," added Mrs. Weasley.

"Sweet," Marlene chirped.

"Charming," continued Remus.

The words fly as they bury him with advice. Harry felt more and more hopeless as they continued to sprout everything he needed to be. He blanked out, momentarily forgetting his annoyance of what is happening around him. Thinking of what it would take to escape this personal hell, he only managed to come back to himself when the information haul finally ended.

"… And when she opens the door, give her a dashing smile. I know you have done this countless times before," Sirius said with a wink. "C'mon then, show me the smile!"

_He wants me to smile? _Harry repeated to himself, not believing what Sirius just said to him. Had Sirius finally went mad? He hasn't smiled since… that night. It has been ages since then. And Sirius expected him to what? Laugh at a moment's notice?

He opened his mouth, about to retort, when he caught Mrs. Weasley's look. Reluctantly, he tensed his facial muscles, pulling his lips back over his teeth.

In unison, the staff gasped and noticeably recoiled backwards.

"Eh..." Sirius said, "Maybe less teeth?"

Harry did not need a mirror to know that his first smile resulted in the most hideous grin anyone had ever seen.

He tried again, this time with only a hint of teeth showing between his lips. His fangs though still protrude out, and even with this little more effort, it barely diminishes how scary the smile was.

Marlene gulped, and not seeing anything salvageable with what she sees, "Why don't you try… No teeth? Just a closed smile?"

Contorting his mouth, he flashed a warning look. Turning back towards the door, he shook his head. He came here to invite the woman to dinner, not to practice how to smile.

Holding back a sarcastic infliction, but only just barely, he called out, "Will you join me for dinner?"

* * *

Hermione, hearing that flushed in anger. After everything that has happened, after everything that monster did to her, he actually had the audacity to invite her to dinner? 

She moved to the door, and leaning close to it to make sure that he heard what she is saying, "You have taken me as your prisoner, trapping me in this castle, and you honestly expect me to have dinner with you? Are you insane?" she snorted pacing back and forth. 

Whipping her head, she glared at the door. She hoped he burned. "Last I checked that is not how a host is supposed to treat their guest. Were you ever taught the proper manner of doing so?" she snorted and shook her head at the absurdity of that statement. "Obviously not." 

* * *

The more the girl talked, the higher Harry's temper rises. His eyebrows twitch, his tail thrashing from side to side. His fur starting to rise, while he clenched his claws at his side. Seeing the signs for what they are, Marlene itches away, quickly flying behind Sirius. 

"Harry, calm down now. Try to hold yourself—" Molly said in a reassuring tone. He was about to lose his temper, which was the last thing they wanted to happen.

"Why should I?" Harry said through clenched teeth. "She is infuriating."

"But you must try," Molly insisted, throwing him a disapproving look. "Would it really be so difficult to hold it in?"

He rolled his eyes and glared at the door. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath and said in a voice that was mostly nice, "It would be my greatest pleasure if you were to join me for dinner."

* * *

Hermione's response was immediate, "And I said no." 

For a moment, no sound could be heard.

Suddenly, angered banging can be heard from the other side, each bang making Hermione recoil further into the room. Clenching her fist around the little golden sphere fluttering against her chest, she exhaled harshly and narrowed her eyes.

"I _told you to come down to dinner_!" the voice on the other side snarled, all niceties evidently gone from his voice.

Hermione did not back down. She banged her fist against the door, "And _I _said _NO! _Don’t you know how to take no as an answer?" she gritted her teeth. "I'd rather starve before I ever ate with you!"

* * *

That was a final straw. "Be my guest!" he shouted back. "Go ahead and _starve_ for all I care!" Turning, he glared at his staff. "This is what you wanted didn't you? For me to invite her to dinner? Well…" He mockingly pointed at the door, "That seemed to have worked just fine didn't it?"

"Harry…" Remus said, his dissatisfaction with him evident in his tone, "if you were to just—"

"Just what? Try again?" he interrupted. "I tried, and it did not work. Now let the matter go."

And with a last huff, he stomped his way through the corridor.

"Harry, please! You can fix this!" Sirius's voice trailed after him. However, his strides were too wide for the candelabrum to follow after him and in a matter of moments, the pleading of everyone who was with him faded off into the distance.

"Well…" Molly said, "That didn't go so well did it?"

Clanks could be heard in the distance, coming closer and closer. Molly looked up just in time to see two teacups hopping in their direction.

"There you are!" one of the teacups said, "I knew that we shouldn't have searched the bottom floor, didn't I tell you George?"

"You did… But at least we found the place!" The other said, looking curiously at those assembled. "Why the long faces? Did something happen?"

Fred – since he wasn't George – glanced down the corridor, before looking back at everyone there, "And did it have any connection as to why our resident furry passed by us in a huff?"

Everyone assembled did not know what to say. Something did happen, but they do not have the heart to ruin the twins' jovial mood. "Nothing much gentlemen. He just found out that he is lacking in something and decided to throw it out on us." Sirius said forcing a smile on his face. Thankfully, the boys did not notice.

"Aw, it is like that…" George said, "Well never mind him. He will get over it… Someday."

"Yeah, he will." Fred nodded.

"So we lost. As a punishment, do you want us to do something? Anything at all?" George asked, curiously staring at Sirius.

Sirius shook his head. He hoped at the start of all this that something right is going to work out at last. Evidently, the exact opposite happened, and it seemed that they are all back at square one. "No punishments on my ends lads. I was only jesting with you." He grinned after seeing the relieved faces of the twins. Even when everything is not going well, those two have always been a spot of light in those trying times.

* * *

He didn't care. They are the ones who have gotten him into this mess, so they should be the ones to fix it. If… It was salvageable. Honestly, what did they expect to happen? For Hermione to _swoon _at the idea of going to dinner with him? What were they supposed to talk about if it have happened anyway; how he kept her prisoner and forced her to say goodbye to her father? They were all fools to expect this idea to work. And he was a fool to even try. 

Fuming, Harry finally returned to his lair passing by shredded furniture and walls not worth even a glance. He stalked over to the large window by the balcony, where a small table stands. It was the only piece of furniture that has survived intact in the West Wing. On top of the table lay a single hand mirror and a glass jar. Within the glass jar held a single rose, petals emitting a subtle light, and still fresh since the day he had received it.

He paced across the balcony, muttering all the while. He grabbed the decaying hand mirror, "Show me the girl." He commanded.

The face of the mirror whirled and swirled, lighting up until an image appears, revealing Hermione. She turned, slid down the wall and curled her knees up under her chin, dread clearly reflective on her face.

Harry, seeing that look… crushed him. He knew the chances were abysmal anyway, what with all the circumstances that have been stacked against him with how the woman came to be in his castle. Yet…

Heart clenched, the magic in the mirror fades as it sensed its caller no longer wanted to see whatever was on its surface. All he was left with was his own reflection and self-loathing staring back at him. Lowering the mirror, he placed it gently on the little table and looks at the rose. Still enchanted and vibrant as the day it has been 'gifted' to him, the rose floated in the glass jar, taunting him with its light. Although still vibrant, the rose's petals have mostly fallen down, blanketing the surface of the table with its shriveled remains. 

Rage evaporating completely, he lowered his head in shame…

… just as one more petal dropped.


	14. Chapter XIII

After the failure that was called dinner, everyone decided to gather in the foyer at the beginning of the evening. They all lounged around, all trying to figure out how they could salvage the hope they have finally found in Hermione's presence.

Sirius, as per usual, had the duty to light up the fireplace. They have long ago been disconnected from the Floo network and none of them are affected by the temperature anymore; a blessing, since none of them has the ability to cast warming charms anymore. Still, that did not stop them from sitting next to the fire. It gave them a nice sentiment for when they were still human.

As the flames engulfed the wood within the hearth, a wave rippled through their frames, whilst a distant crash of fallen debris shook the whole castle.

"Another petal fell," Sirius stated, as he relit the hearth once more. It was always like this. They always stuck together when it was time for another petal to fall. When the curse was first laid upon them, they had been more man than objects. Back then, when a petal fell, they were barely able to feel or tell that something had been changed. But now, with the curse so far along, they can feel every single effect a single petal has upon them.

Marlene, reclining on the piano bench shivered in place. Checking herself, "Oh no… Sirius. I grew three more feathers… and I just plucked yesterday."

Seeing his love downtrodden, Sirius started to make his way towards her, but his legs suddenly stiffen. He moved his flame to his knee like a heating pad. "I know darling—ow!" he winced when bent his knee, but grit his teeth until the feeling went away, "I'm getting more metallic every day."

Clicketing sounds start to emit from Remus, "Oh no! It's—" ticking intensified, "—happening again—" gears audibly move faster, until it finally stops, "—Pardon me." 

Everyone started to talk over each other, panicking as they all felt themselves lose a bit more of their humanity. All of them being together whenever it happens helps, yet… with how close it is for the curse to completely take over, they cannot help but panic.

"There is barely…"

"I don't want to…"

"Will we ever…"

"Oh everyone, calm yourselves! We still have time," Molly shouted, interrupting the wave of panic that has rippled across the room. She frowned as she noticed that even with her berating; no one seemed to have calmed down enough to consider it as a success. It used to work back in the early stages of the curse when hope was still rampant in everybody's hearts. Not anymore it seemed.

She glanced at Sirius comforting a distraught Marlene, whilst Remus was busy having a hushed conversation of a distraught Fred. It pains her to see one of her boys so out of it like that. She smiled lightly, having Remus's calm demeanor in this castle have always been a blessing.

Molly then braced herself for what she knew was going to happen. It is only a matter of time.

Hearing a groan of ceramics, she closed her eyes. A cold shiver passed through her as she felt herself become harder, her frame becoming less pliable. She shook herself, in the hope to get rid of that feeling, but it never fully did.

It was only a matter of time until the change is complete.

"Mother…" she turned around to see George distraughtly looking at her, "Do you ever think we will ever…"

It is one thing to see the fear and desperation rippling through the adults, but it was another to see her boys, her twin spots of light in these turbulent times, so… depressed. Like they were going to cave into themselves at a moment's notice.

"Oh hush you," she said, making the teacup jump a little. "We still have time," Glancing at Sirius, and seeing him occupied, she looked back at her boy and smiled. "If I recall correctly, you and your brother failed that little challenge Sirius put up for you, right?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with—"

She rolled her eyes, and raised her voice, making sure that George could hear her. "You lost the challenge, so… As punishment, you will have to help me with a little something," she leaned in and whispered, "Do you remember that guest we mentioned previously? Back in the kitchen?"

George nodded, wondering what the punishment has to do with anything.

"Well… Since you and your brother lost, can you both help me with a little thing? Call Fred over, and I will tell you the details," a little spark seemed to reignite in him as he grinned and hopped over to his brother, who was curiously looking at him.

Seeing her two boys whispering among each other, she steeled herself with what she is about to do. "Yes we will," Molly finally answered the question, and promised, "Just leave it to me."

* * *

Throwing her makeshift rope out of the window again, Hermione peered out of the tower and sent a ball of light down. Ever since she had been barred from eating, and already barred from leaving, it left her no choice but to tirelessly continue her escape plan. She could have left through the front doors, but knowing her luck, the chances of encountering her 'host' is vastly higher if she left her room like that. There is also the added chance of having one of the cursed spot her, and that is one of the last thing she would want to do. 

From what she had observed every single one of them was friendly – with that one exception – and she did feel a small amount of guilt for wanting to escape. Hermione was also curious to know the specifics of the curse the tenants of this castle were laboring under. Yet, whenever she thought of that, her father's face and his desperation to reach her as he was dragged away made her more resolute to leave this accursed castle, no matter what. Her host certainly made that decision easier for her to follow through. 

So the moment her host left, and her guardian fast asleep, she continued to build upon the rope, finding it lacking every time she checked her progress. The distance is certainly getting smaller, and hopefully, if she continues working on it in the next few hours, the length would be sufficient enough for her to make her escape.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the rope and was preparing to haul it back inside when she heard a knock.

Blinking, she looked around and tried to find the source. Narrowing her eyes she turned towards her guardian, thinking she had finally woken up. Yet… she still slumbered, filling the silence with her snores. Hermione shook her head, thinking she might have knocked and hit something while hauling the heavy fabric back into the room.

Yet, when she went back and started to levitate the fabric nearer to the window, another three knocks ricochets in the room.

She shivered, remembering the words of her oh-so-gracious 'host', and a flash of anger coursed through her. Glancing at the rope, Hermione could feel her freedom within her grasp, and she could almost taste it. Not wanting any more interruptions, she glared at the door, "I told you to go away!"

To her surprise, it is not the deep and grumbling voice of her host that answered. Instead, the voice was gentle, a bit bossy, and overall motherly. "Don't worry dear," it said, "It is only Mrs. Weasley."

Hearing that, she paused. She had heard that name before, but she does not remember when exactly she heard it. Glancing at the pile of fabric sprawled across the room, she panics. Even if the tenants are nice, the last thing she wanted to do is to alert them of her intentions. "Just a minute!" Hermione yelled back, and with a few quick waves, all of the fabric that was still in the room was placed in a large pile. Seeing as the only place she can properly hide them was in Lavender's drawers, she felt queasy when thinking of placing them back inside.

She looked around, trying to find a good location to hide the pile when she noticed that the area between the window and bed cannot be seen from the direction of the door. Quickly, she directed the pile there and seeing that it is as hidden as it can be, stood in front of the pile and waved her wand to the door, silently unlocking it.

"You can come in now," Hermione called out.

The door swung open, and a serving trolley rolled inside. On top of the trolley laid a beautiful teapot with a pair of teacups with similar designs on their sides. A simple face drawn on all three of the porcelain pieces, yet the teacups appear to have a more masculine design than that of the feminine teapot.

If she were to hazard a guess, the teapot is most likely Mrs. Weasley. The teacups were a complete mystery though if they were even cursed at all.

The teapot smiles at her as her trolley bustles in. Hermione though, smiled tightly as she moved, trying to block the view of the pile of cloth from the unexpected guest.

However, Mrs. Weasley has easily spotted the escape route the moment she had entered the room. It hadn't surprised her that their guest would do this. Given what she already heard and saw, it is no wonder she would want to escape, even after the others told her about the wards. However, she is not going to want the girl to leave – no one in the castle wants that. She is their only salvation, and even if most of them already lost hope, she would not stop trying until the last petal fell.

For her little plan to work, she would need to trick the girl to do what she wants even if she doesn't want to. Having had a large amount of experience doing so with her children, it should all hopefully work out.

"It is a very long journey dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled sweetly at her, "Let me fix you a nice hot cup of tea before you go. I have found that most troubles seem less troubling after a bracing cup o' tea, am I right Ms. Brown?" the teapot said, addressing the still slumbering armoire. "Oh goodness child, wake up!"

Startled, Lavender finally woke up. "What?" she asked, looking slightly confused, "What time is it? Have I fallen asleep again?"

One of the teacups, the one on the right, piped in, "It is past midnight, Brown."

The other teacup shook its frame, "Guess it has gotten worse."

"What did?" Hermione interjected, wondering what the two teacups are talking about, "And if I may ask, who are you two? You both have the same design as Mrs. Weasley, so would that mean that you are both related to her?"

The two teacups hopped closer to Hermione, a grin etched in both of their faces. "We seem to have a bright one here," the one on the left said, "figuring out something without being told. Hopefully, she will be able to outsmart our resident idiot."

"True, brother," the right one answered, "And to answer your question, dear lady, I am Fred Weasley,"

"While I," the left one said, "am George."

Hermione smiled, entertained by the back and forth the teacups just did, "A pleasure to meet you both."

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady," Fred said, smiling roguishly at her, "We are forever blessed to be in the presence of such a beauty."

"My soul is feeling cleansed already," George intoned.

"Oh hush you two," Mrs. Weasley scolded, "Stop annoying the girl with your endless banter. And Fred, come here."

"Yes mom…" Fred said. He hopped towards his mother and allowed himself to have some tea poured into him. Once full, the trolley wheeled over to Hermione, and the teacup hopped a few times to get closer. "Careful now," Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing the tea as it almost fell out of the cup, "we don’t want to burn her fingers."

Fred rolled his eyes as he was picked up, and brought closer to her mouth. Sipping the contents, Hermione looked down at the teacup, which seemed to be eagerly looking up at her. He smiled at her, "Do you want to see me do a trick?" And without waiting for an answer, a bubble started to form on the rim, growing bigger and bigger. When the bubble popped, a few sparkles burst out of the bubble, forcing a laugh to escape Hermione's lips.

"Fred- I wanted to do that!"

"Sorry not sorry," Fred said as he was placed back into the trolley, "elder brother privileges and all."

Hermione coughed, startling the two boys mid banter. Glancing at Lavender, and remembering what the two boys said in the beginning, she looked at the other teacup – George – and asked, "What did you mean, when you said that it has gotten worse?"

George glanced at his brother, and then looked back at her, "Well, Lavender used to sleep eight hours every day when the curse was first placed on us but now…"

"… She sleeps for twenty-three hours."

"That is enough you two," Mrs. Weasley warned, "It is not polite to speak of a woman's habits."

But the twins gave Hermione pause. Sirius and Remus avoided to talk explicitly about the curse, and when she tried to speak to Lavender previously, she fell asleep before she was able to tell her what she wanted to know.

"What happened here? How did you all become the way you are?" she asked, "If I am not mistaken, you must be the wife of Mr. Arthur Weasley, but as far as I could remember…" Hermione frowned, trying to move passed the fuzzy fog in her brain, "… you were supposed to be on a trip somewhere. How did you become like this?"

"Well, if I recall correctly—"

"Oh hush you," Mrs. Weasley interrupted George as she poured more tea, "Don't spill tea. Or secrets."

Hermione tilted her head slightly, as she took another sip of tea. Like the others, none of the people in the castle are willing to talk about what happened here. But… Now that she thought about it, she does not know where _here _is. She does know that she is in a castle in the woods, but with how close the castle is to the village, everyone should have known where the castle is. Yet… No one in the village even mentioned the castle. It… was worrying to say the least.

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, "Where is this place? And who was… that thing that imprisoned me?" she shivered, angry green flashing before her eyes. "No one mentioned anything about this place back in the village, and none of the others here managed to tell me where this is…"

"Really?" Mrs. Weasley said, "no one told you where you are?"

"No one"

She shook her head, "Honestly, you have been here all this time and no one told you… Guess I'll need to exchange some words with Sirius again." The teapot looked up at her, "You are in Potter Castle, and the wood around the perimeter is the Forbidden Forest."

"Potter?" she tilted her head, remembering the book and what she heard about that House, "Isn't the last Potter the one who defeated the Dark Lord? And went missing soon afterwards?"

"You are well-read," Mrs. Weasley said, "Yes, but in fact, he didn't go missing. In fact, the beast you saw previously is the same Potter you heard so much about. Lord Harry James Potter."

Hermione's eyes widened, shocked to hear that the last Potter, whom she heard so much about, is the same uncaring monster who trapped her father and herself in this castle. It simply does not make any sense. Flabbergast, she opened her mouth, "But… If he…" she took a deep breath, "If he is such an accomplished wizard, then why wasn't this curse already broken?"

"It is not my place to tell you, Ms. Granger. Now, drink the tea before it becomes too cold."

Sensing that Mrs. Weasley won't be saying anything more about the topic, Hermione smiled she finished her cup of tea, all the while listening to the two twins bicker. It was sad, Hermione thought, that such happy young and delightful men are cursed and trapped in the form they are in.

"That was a very brave thing you did for your father dear." Mrs. Weasley suddenly remarked.

Lavender, whom had finally completely woke up from the deep sleep she was in, nodded in agreement. "We all think so," she said, "I doubt I'd be brave enough to do what you did if I were in your shoes."

Hermione clenched her fist, her smile fading at the mention of her father. "I am so worried about him… He'd never been on his own," she said softly. Remembering her father's state, she asked Mrs. Weasley a question that had been plaguing her, "My father had been in this castle for one day but… he looked like he was starved. Did you not feed him?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her frame, "From what I know, we did send your father multiple meals during his stay, but he refused to eat any of it. He haven't dared to eat anything, just drank water."

Hermione widened her eyes, "His stay? But… It was only one day."

"No honey," Mrs. Weasley stated, "Time here… Acts differently. Part of the curse you see. Your father may have been away for one day from your perspective, but for him? It had been a week."

Hermione opened her mouth, mouth flapping as her mind tried to make sense of what she was told. No wonder he looked so thin when she saw him. The mood shifted, she bowed her head, and "I hope he is fine…"

"Oh cheer up popper." Mrs. Weasley said, trying to get some of the earlier levity back, Things will turn out in the end. You'll feel a lot better after dinner."

"Dinner? But I thought…"

"What, 'If she doesn't eat with me, she doesn’t eat at all' nonsense?" Mrs. Weasley snorted, "People say many things in anger," she said whilst she turned the serving table towards the door and started to leave, "it is our choice whether to listen or not."

Mrs. Weasley turned around to look back at Hermione, "Coming?"

Hermione hesitated, not knowing what to do. On one hand, she wants to finish constructing the rope, while on the other…

Her stomach apparently decided to make the decision for her. With a loud rumble, Hermione hurried to catch up to the departed trolley, blushing as she tried to ignore the low snickering behind her.


	15. Chapter XIV

The kitchen staff was ready. They have been preparing themselves to the task ahead from the moment Mrs. Weasley and the twins went to Hermione's room. Knowing her, she'd easily have sweet-talked and convinced Hermione to go down for a quick bite.

But… Sirius had no intention of this being a quick bite. This meal would be one Hermione would forever remember. From the appetizers to the entrées, everything had been prepared with the utmost care and thought. He personally had gone to the wine cellar to bring out one of Odgens finest. Harry will most likely not notice – what, with his usual preferences - there is a good chance it won't be missed.

Sirius bustled in, and clapped his two candles together, "They're coming! C’mon everyone, final checks!" he said excitedly. A moment of silence, then the kitchen flurried in activity. Polished plates flying to their destinations, the silverware were being inspected for their shine; even the napkins were being refolded and carefully levitated to their tray. Nothing was being left unattended.

It was no wonder everything was being handled with utmost care and perfection. Everyone wanted Hermione to have the smoothest and most enjoyable meal she ever had in her life. Hopefully, by the time she put her fork down; she would not want to leave. Or at least, that is what Sirius hoped would happen.

The only one who still remains skeptical… was Remus.

"No no! It Harry finds out you violated his orders and fed her…" Remus protested as he waddled in after him, "He will blame me! And I assure you, the last place I want to be is anywhere near him when he finds out," Remus shivered, knowing how temperamental Harry was. "I do NOT want to be broken into pieces by the time the sun shines."

"Really, Remus?" Sirius said, turning to face his friend. He knew that Remus tended to avoid confrontations and arguments as much as possible, but honestly, sometimes he needed a little push to do the thing that needed to be done. They have been so used to the status quo for so long that it was no wonder nothing had changed much in the castle. "Live a little will you? You saw how this girl stood up to him. Fear or no fear, with a little push and the right circumstances, we will be curse free in no time."

"You know she will never fall in love with him…" Remus said softly.

"Well, how do you know that?" Sirius answered back, "They must fall in love of we are to be human again, and they can't fall in love if she stays in her room." Skipping onto a passing trolley, he disregarded his friend who was trying valiantly to follow after him. "We have been listening and obeying Harry's orders all the time, and from what I have seen," he said, picking up a crumpled napkin and started to polish himself, "that strategy does not seem to be working does it?"

Remus sighed as he finally managed to catch to the trolley. Climbing in pursuit, he pointedly stared down at Sirius, in the hope that he would be able to see sense. "Listen to me Sirius, Please…" he pleaded with his friend."With everything that has happened, the chances of the girl to fall in love with our resident ball of sunshine are almost minuscule."

"Almost," Sirius repeated throwing the napkin away, satisfied with his shine. "You said it yourself. There is still a chance, albeit a small one, for the girl to fall in love with him. In my opinion, that is better than nothing."

Turning away from Remus, Sirius leapt onto the table and straightened a champagne flute. It wasn't everyday a girl entered the castle, and even then, not one with enough strength to stand up to Harry. No, Sirius thought. This dinner was going to happen – with or without Remus's blessing. Checking to see the preparations are almost complete, he hopped onto the oven and sipped a spoonful out of the bubbling pot. "I have no taste buds, but I can tell this is exquisite."

Remus, seeing there was nothing he can do to deter Sirius from doing what he wanted, sighed. "Look Sirius, can you at least keep it down? We do not want him to find out about this." 

Sirius smiled at Remus; he almost forgot about that. "Great idea, Remus. What sort of dinner this is without a little… music?"

He hopped down and dashed towards the door, ignoring his friends' protests as he ran down the corridor. Remus chased after the excitable Sirius, hoping he would be able to put a stop to whatever mad idea sprung from the candelabrum.

* * *

Following the trolley, Hermione wondered where Mrs. Weasley was taking her. From what she had seen, Mrs. Weasley seemed to be as kind as her husband, but with everything that had happened, she could not help but wonder if there was another reason why she is being so kind to her.

Walking through the quiet halls, the only other sounds which can be heard are the two teacups bickering and laughing among each other. She smiled as she listened to their rampant tales, giggling a little as they did another impression of the dour Headmaster back in the village. With how familiar they are with the members of the village, she cannot help but wonder why those two had to also be punished. Fred and George seem harmless.

"ne… Oi… Her-my-oh-nee!"

Hermione gasped as she felt a small spray of cold liquid hitting her face. She blinked, as she slowly raised her hand and wiped the small droplets of… water off her face.

"Finally! Welcome back!" Fred said.

"You've been standing there for quite some time staring at the wall. Something on your mind?" George inquired.

Blinking again, she looked down at the two teacups, who were staring curiously at her. Opening her mouth, she was about to retort when another voice spoke up.

"Fred. George." Mrs. Weasley interjected frowning, "It is impolite to say such things to a lady. Apologize."

"Really mom?" George whined, "But, she was just standing there."

Mrs. Weasley had hushed them both before they were able to say anything more. It was one thing to joke around with likeminded people – Sirius being the perfect example –, but it is a completely different matter to do so when a person was preoccupied. She had noticed Hermione slowing down, seemingly thinking about something deeply. It was no wonder. So many things have happened in such a small amount of time, and the girl needed some time to process all of it.

But for her boys to blatantly disregard that…

"I will not repeat myself again," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "If you both step one toe out of line, both of you will be sent straight to the nursery room, locked in until you both behave." Steam going out of her nostril, her anger could not be more evident.

Fred, realizing the threat for what it was shushed his brother before he dug himself deeper into the hole he created. Seeing his mother serious expression, he nodded. "Okay mom. No funny business from now on." He glanced at his brother, "We promise."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, pleased to see they were finally listening. She turned back to look at the girl, who had only just finished wiping all of the water off her face. "Come on dear, this way!"

Hermione tentatively smiled at the fussy teapot as she walked through another door. She looked around, noticing she was in a dining room; golden accent chairs frame the long table. If she recalled correctly… this was one of the rooms she explored when she first entered this caste.

She walked towards the front of the dining table, and stood there, staring down the long table. Fidgeting in place, unsure what to do, she turned around and was about to open her mouth to ask Mrs. Weasley a question. Yet… when she turned, she was met with nothing. The trolley she could have sworn was right beside her only moments ago was no longer there.

Standing alone in the silence of the dark dining room, Hermione's hand twitched, her body tensing ever so slowly. As she was about to reach for her wand, a light shone down on the center of the table.

She squinted somewhat, as the light wavered and struggled to stay stable. Hermione, curious to know its source, looked up only to see Marlene floating by a high window holding a shiny silver platter, and managing to turn a shaft of moonlight into a… spotlight.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. Her body relaxed minutely once she saw the flamboyant Sirius leaping onto the table, his ever-present grin plastered on his face.

"Good evening, my dear lady…" Sirius started, soft music started to waft from somewhere in the room. "… It is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight." He gestured to the chair behind her – for Hermione was still standing.

"And now, we invite you to relax…" With a wave of one of his arms, he bowed down, magically nudging the chair behind Hermione forward, forcing her to sit snuggly on the armchair at the head of the table.

"… As the dining room proudly presents…"

Sirius jumped up, perfectly avoiding the roll of cloth and landed in a pose. With a flourish, hundreds of cutlery equipment floated from the darkness, all landing neatly and perfectly synchronized on the table. He smiled as he saw the awed expression on Hermione's face.

"… Your dinner."

At first, Hermione sat there on the table with her hands on her lap, needing to be nudged as Sirius started to guide her through the meal. But the longer she stayed, entranced by the obvious magical display of the candelabrum in front of her, the more relaxed she felt. Watching the napkins fold and refold into wondrous designs, having the spoons and forks sway together in a mesmerizing dance, all while Sirius and Remus make lively suggestions… It made that tight ball that was stuck in her chest loosen bit by bit.

By the time Sirius started to dance around the table, making jokes about the appetizers, Hermione was completely relaxed, smiling widely and completely entranced by the display in front of her. She knew magic was wondrous and beautiful… but to truly see what it can do… the effect it can make just by simple lighting and levitation charms... Just blew her mind.

Magic truly was an amazing thing.

All too soon, dishes started to appear in front of her. Without anymore prompting, Hermione took a bite out of the food. An explosion of flavor burst in her mouth, making her release a satisfied moan by how delicious it was. Dish after dish and plate after plate… When Hermione thought she could no longer fit any more food in her stomach, she surprised herself whenever another dish appeared in front of her. 

* * *

The service was seamless, and the company delightful. By the time the last dessert was cleared off the table, Hermione felt she would truly never be able to eat again. Standing up and fully satisfied, she smiled warmly at the staff in front of her.

"Thank you… that was the best meal I have ever eaten in my life."

Sirius, Remus and Mrs. Weasley, who have at this point been eagerly waiting for the final verdict, beamed by her praise. For now, they have succeeded. Now they need a bit more time to work with their hairy 'master', and before they will know it, they will be free.

"Thank you, my dear…"

"It was an honor…"

"The food really was…"

Hermione laughed as the three pieces talked over themselves, wanting to show the girl how much they appreciated her honest opinion.

"Really, thank you." Hermione smiled, albeit a bit tiredly. "I am sure I will never forget this for the rest of my life. But…" she yawned, exaggerating a little, "I am feeling a bit tired, so I would like to retire for the night."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, "Sure dear. It was such a long day, wasn't it? C’mon now, off to bed. I'll escort you to the stairs."

Hermione nodded and made her way towards the door, silently waving to the candelabrum and mantle clock one last time. Standing outside, she waited for Mrs. Weasley's trolley to pass before she gently closed the door.

Walking slowly beside Mrs. Weasley, comfortable silence enveloping them, Hermione cannot help but wonder. Compared to the warmth of the dining room, the rest of the castle now felt cold and desolate.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for everything you have done for me. Am sure I would be ravenous if it wasn't for the food all of you made for me." Hermione said, breaking the silence.

Mrs. Weasley smiled up at her, "No need to thank me. It is my greatest pleasure to help take care of a young woman like you. You look unbearably thin." – Hermione lightly snorted, but was unnoticed by the teapot – "Taking care of your health should be of utmost importance. You are still growing and need the energy to do so."

Hermione, who wasn't used to such feverant care and mothering blushed. Although… as she smiled at Mrs. Weasley, Hermione cannot help but wonder why everyone decided to stay in such a dreary place. The curse did seem to be tethered to something within the castle, but surely if all of them worked together, they would be able to overcome the curse with their combined magic. From the displays she had seen whilst eating, it was surely possible… so –

Mrs. Weasley, sensing a change in Hermione, slowed down. Concerned by the slight change, she asked, "Hermione is there something wrong?"

Hermione tried to force a smile, but it felt weird, and seeing how the look Mrs. Weasley sent her way didn't abate, it was obvious that she was not falling for it either.

"It is just…" Hermione hesitated, "Surely you're as trapped here as I am. Don't you…" she gulped, "don't you ever want to escape?"

Mrs. Weasley stared at her, and not for the first time, but surely for the longest, Hermione felt she was being scrutinized. A few moments passed before the teapot said anything, "There is nothing we can do." Mrs. Weasley said softly, "Was there anything else you want to say?"

"Mrs. Weasley, I do not mean to be rude, but surely you want to escape this place," Hermione said, gesturing with her arms the area around her. Currently, they are now standing near the staircase, which leads to the general directions of the Wings.

"Hermione dear…" Mrs. Weasley said, "We are all here for a reason. None of us, and I truly mean none of us, can leave this place." Then, in a tone Hermione cannot really identify, Mrs. Weasley continued, "Lord Potter is really not as terrible as he appears, you know. He may seem mean and cruel at first glance, but somewhere deep inside, there is a gentleman, just waiting to be set free." Mrs. Weasley then smiled slyly, "Don't you know it is kind of preemptive to judge a book by its cover?"

Hermione frowned, "True, they may say that, but what would happen if the contents are just as bad?"

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, "Then my advice is to reserve judgment until you have read the whole book." And with that, the trolley moved onwards. Hermione sensed the conversation had effectively ended. She did get a few hints from the conversation she just had, but nothing really concrete.

Reaching the massive staircase, Hermione looked up. She turned around to see Mrs. Weasley smiling lightly at her, "You have had a long day, dear. Now off to bed with you."

Smiling Hermione slowly made her way up the main staircase. She heard the distinctive sound of the trolley going away. By the time Hermione reached the top of the staircase, she had turned around and did not see the trolley anywhere in sight.

Hermione sighed. For the first time throughout this long day, Hermione truly felt like she has finally been left alone. Eyes darting back and forth, she was pleased to see no one is around.

Hesitating, she contemplated her choices. If she went to the right, she will head back to East Wing, where there is a good chance for her to escape this drenched castle. However… If she were to go the left… Hermione bit her lip.

It would be logical to head back to her room and escape once everyone is busy tidying up after the dinner she had. Easy. Freedom was truly within her grasp. Yet…

She glanced up at the stairs leading up to the West Wing.

Taking a deep breath, she continued making her way up the stairs. She would only take a quick look in the West Wing, nothing more. Just to satisfy her curiosity.

After all, what could go wrong?


	16. Chapter XV

Walking up the staircase that lead to the West Wing, Hermione looked back furiously biting her lip. Many minutes has passed since she has succumbed to her curiosity. She had been walking up the winding staircase for a while, and not for the first time every instinct within her bones have been begging her to go back the way she came from. But as she stared down the darkness before her, she knew that it is going to be hopeless. She had lost count in the number of turns she took to have reached this far up, and was now truly and utterly lost.

Taking a staggering sigh, she turned around and continued onward, wand held tightly in her grasp. She decided not to use her wand to light up the area, in fear of accidentally using it as a beacon for any unwanted attention. Hermione knew that she is unbelievably lucky. Who knows where the beastly Lord was?

Hermione shook her head. She had been standing in the middle of the staircase for a very long time. Taking a staggering breath, she made her way up another flight of stairs, until she had managed to spot something in the distance. A door.

Gripping her wand, she hurried towards the door, making sure to stick to the shadows. She silently unlocked the door and breathed a sigh of relief when it opened without a single creak. However, as she saw the state of the corridor she found herself in, she shivered. She thought the hallways leading to her room where dark and morose, but looking at the state of the one she is in; she knew that that wasn't the case.

This place felt lonely and depressing. In fact, she now thought the rest of the castle felt cheery in comparison. A deep crack harshly distorting what was once an elegant and tastefully decorated corridor; some parts of the corridor have collapsed, debris decorating the dusty floors. Empty hooks on the walls indicate that portraits have once hung in the expanse of the hall; although that is obviously not the case. The rug beneath her feet marred and scratched, torn in places where the 'lord' must have unleashed his anger on it. Even the air here was heavier somehow. Thicker.

Hermione paused. There are only a few reasons why the atmosphere can become drastically heavy in such a short amount of time. Cautiously, she raised her wand, and cast one of her specialty charms she had crafted a while back. She never had any reason to cast it much, but at one point her father had accidentally brought back an enchanted chest. It looked normal but when items started to disappear mysteriously, she got curious and developed a charm to unravel the secret. Bringing her mind to focus on the present, she took a deep calming breath to strengthen her resolve.

"_Magicae revelare." _With the whispered incantation, a white wisp left the tip of her wand and moved across the expanse of the area. It did not go far, and once it returned it changed color. The color of the spell changes depending on how much magic there is in the environment; the darker it is the more ambient magic present.

Hermione gasped as she saw the previously white wisp become a dark burgundy color. For it to become such a dark color…

She shivered. Goosebumps rising on her arms. Hermione was on the verge of turning around when she saw a light at the end of the hall. A massive wooden door has been slightly left ajar and through it, she can make out a suite. Curiosity overtaking her fear, Hermione made her way towards the door and slowly pushed the door open.

Instantly though, she wished she hadn’t. If the hallway had been unnerving, the suite was terror inducing. Furniture lies in rubble, broken and splintered almost beyond recognition. What were once beautiful curtains are shredded scattered on the dusty floor. The more Hermione took in the sight before her, the faster her heart thundered in her chest. Taking a step inside the room, the smell of dust invaded her nostrils, forcing her to muffle her sneeze. Tears watering her eyes, she turned and saw a large four-poster bed, its faded coverlet grey with dust, as if no one has slept in it for years. As her eyes drift over the room, she can see the reason why. On the floor, she can see a makeshift bed made of straw, torn bits of fabric, and crumbled blankets.

A rush of foreboding coursed through her at the sight.

Wary, Hermione continues her exploration of the room. She reached a wall that seemed to have been filled with many portraits, if the many empty hooks are an indication. Gravitating to one of the portraits, Hermione cocked her head. It was a family portrait of sorts. The subjects were of an obese man and his son and what seemed to be a thin wirily woman. The faces have been slashed beyond recognition, that part of the canvas in pieces. The only subject that has been left untouched was of a lithe young boy with messy black hair and familiar green eyes.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember where she saw those eyes before. She then glimpsed to the other side, her eyes peering at another portrait. With a start, she brandishes her wand at that direction, only to find eyes belonging to a portrait staring at her. Her heart thundering Hermione leaned forward. Curiously, she stared up at the portrait of a couple, a Lord and Lady, staring down at her with a sad expression. It was odd, Hermione thought, that out of all of the portraits in this area of the castle, this one seems to be kept in pristine condition. The couple makes such a striking pair, the man with shaggy black hair and hazel eyes, while the woman with a mane of long red hair and… Green eyes?

Hermione blinked and stared into the eyes of the woman in the portrait. The eyes… they looked so familiar…

Her breath caught in her throat as Hermione realized that they reminded her of _his_ eyes. She glanced up at the two portraits, her eyes darting between the boy and the woman with the green eyes. Hermione was about to open her mouth when the subjects inside the portrait shook their heads. They gestured at something behind her, and Hermione not knowing what they were pointing at, turned.

As Hermione turned, her eyes dragged away from the pair of portraits. Her attention was drawn to the far end of the room. Huge glass doors had been left open, leading towards a stone balcony. Moonlight illuminating the balcony with a blue hue, her eyes widened at the sight before her. Amidst the chaos and destruction she saw, this area had an air of tranquility and peace. The only thing in the balcony was a table. It was nothing special, but it was the only item that had remained intact and whole in the entirely turbulent room. But what especially caught her eye was the glass jar settled at the center of its surface.

The jar itself was made of delicate glass; intricate patterns etched onto the surface of its fineness. At a certain angle, it gave a silhouette of what looked like wild weeds growing out from underneath the surface of the jar. But what truly captured Hermione’s eyes was what lay underneath the jar. For inside, floating, was a beautiful red rose whose petals were emitting a soft glow.

Hermione was enchanted. It was the most beautiful rose she had ever seen! Before her eyes, she can see the color of the beautiful rose continuously change hue from a bright blood red to a dark burgundy shade. As if in a trance, Hermione made her way to the table. Slowly, she touched the surface of the glass. She was shocked to feel the warmth of the glass’ surface, although the room it was in was as cold as ice.

Straightening her back, she waved her wand and cast the revealing spell she used earlier. To her shock, the wisp hovered around the glass jar, blackening in front of her eyes. With widened eyes, she tentatively touched the jar and lifted it, carefully placing to one side. With the rose now unprotected, she resisted the urge to touch one of the soft petals and raised her wand.

Before she was able to utter a single thing though…

… A voice interrupted her. 

"What do you think you’re doing?" she brandished her wand at the direction of the sound. From the shadows, the towering figure of the beast prowled out. Although his voice was not that loud, she can clearly hear the rage flickering underneath his calm tone. Looking up, her heart stuttered as her gaze connected with his startling emerald green eyes. They were cold and hard. She was sure that if looks could kill, she would have been dead on the spot.

Calmly, and without betraying any of the fear that is coursing within her, she grabbed the jar and gently put it down over the rose, covering it again. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" he said, slowly walking towards the table. Hermione sensing the approach backed away. "That did not… seem like a _nothing _to me."

He approached the table and looked at the glowing rose. His eyes widened as he stared at it, fire intensifying within them. "_What did you do?" _he growled at her.

Hermione was petrified. She did nothing, and when she removed the jar nothing was remiss. But maybe she accidentally did something without knowing. "S-s-sorry?"

"Sorry?" he scoffed, tattered cape billowing behind him as he twisted to face her. "_Sorry _is not the answer to what you almost did. To what…" he prowled towards her, like a predator to prey, "… you have almost cost us all."

He kept coming towards her, "…You could have damned us all." He snarled, bearing down at Hermione. Suddenly, she felt the little ball on her chest flutter up in front of her, and the next thing she knew, a golden sphere surrounded her. With a pulse of magic, Harry was repelled away from her and hit the table.

The jar wobbled ominously from the force, and a column in the room spontaneously splintered, falling on the dusty floor with an ominous thud. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the column fall and he immediately jumped up on his hind legs. Panic filled his eyes.

He lunged towards the jar, desperately inspecting it for damages. "_Get out!_ You and your ilk caused enough damage as it is!", he hissed with venom.

Hermione did not need to be told twice. Turning, she fled. All that was on her mind was to run as far away from the man-beast as possible. She ran through the room and out the open door, not seeing the look of despair the couple in the portrait sent her.

* * *

Sirius sighed as his rook was eaten by the queen.

"Checkmate, again?" he grumbled, staring down at the board in front of him. "Honestly, you must be cheating. No one is supposed to be that good at chess."

Remus laughed, clearing out the board. He started to restart the board again, knowing that Sirius will be demanding a rematch from him. It was unfair, true, but in these desolate times, this is one of the only ways for him to let loose. He may be called stingy, but with the number of times Sirius kept getting him in trouble, this was one of the very few ways for him to get even.

"Don't be a sore loser," Remus grinned, "It is not my problem that you cannot learn from your mistakes."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Sirius grumbled, glaring down at the board, "What are you going to say next? I guess you cannot teach an old dog new tricks?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Remus said as he placed the last pawn in place. "So, do you want to be white or black? Your choice."

"White, and this time I am going to kick your ass!"

Remus chuckled, shaking the top of his frame. "We—"

What Remus was going to say, Sirius will never know. For he heard the sound of footsteps from the direction of the West Wing. Expecting to see Harry in all his fearsome glory, he stood up from the stool he was sitting on about to say his customary greeting when he was dumbstruck. _For Hermione was running down the stairs which lead to the West Wing._

A sense of foreboding crawled up his frame as he caught a glimpse of the _complete terror _etched on her face. He does not need to know what have happened, but with how fast she is running down the stairs, it was as if the devil himself was chasing her.

"Hermione! Where are you going?!"

He expected her to stop. He expected her to run up towards her room. What he did not expect _was for her to continue running down the main staircase. _

"Getting out of here!" the girl cried over her shoulder as she continued running.

With that statement, everyone who was in hearing distance stopped what they were doing. Then, they ran towards her, begging her to stay. Some napkins tried to tangle themselves in her hair, another tried to trip her on her feet. The most creative one was of the cowardly dog-turned-stool Fang, who attempted to growl at the girl. But when it saw Hermione's determined face, whimpered, then ran away.

Nothing they did, nothing they said, could deter the girl from the path she decided to take. Without another glance at the occupants, she shimmied through the small door the dog escaped from, into the cold night.


	17. Chapter XVI

Hermione rushed out into the cold outdoors. Running down the frosty stone steps, she dashed towards the stable. It did not take long for her to find Buckbeak, who at this point, has completely recovered from the exciting events in the last twenty-four hours.

The big animal had made itself comfortable in the stable’s roomy stalls. It was about to go to sleep, when the doors to the stable banged open. It looked up, and seeing the terrified look on Hermione's face, stood and made its way towards her, sensing her distress. Buckbeak neighed at the distraught girl, who finally managed to secure a saddle on its back, fingers shaking all the while.

Hermione ignored the unspoken question. Buckbeak may be a normal horse, but an unintelligent one, it is not. She knew that it can understand whatever is being said, and can feel if something is going wrong. At one point, Hermione considered to examine the horse to see if it had a magical signature, for these traits are more common in magical breeds than in mundane ones.

Nonetheless, she pulled him out of the stall and quickly mounted. Buckbeak, sensing the urgency in its master, didn't hesitate. It broke into a run, heading straight towards the castle’s gate.

The gate, which had been closed all this time, opened with a groan. Not giving another thought, she grasped onto the reigns tightly as she made her way out the castle grounds.

Moments later, they were safely through the gate and back into the woods that surrounded the castle.

Hermione shuddered as she felt the troublesome weight of grief leave her chest. She looked back, and was able to see a golden shimmer in the air for a few seconds before it dissipated. Sirius' voice echoing in her head, she remembered when he told her about the ward surrounding the area, trapping everyone inside. Looking forward once more to her highly anticipated escape and feeling the cold wind hitting her face, her bushy hair escaped the confines of her braid.

She laughed, unbridled and wild. She is finally free. This is what she should have done hours ago. Distracted by the music and entertainments, and shackled by her curiosity, she was unable to let go of the mystery of the castle and its inhabitants, but now… She can finally go home. She can finally see her father again.

Hermione grinned and tilted her head up, uncaring as the snowflakes continue to hit her face. She closed her eyes, completely entranced by the utter feeling of freedom coursing through her veins. It was surreal; the abrupt shift from the terror she was feeling only minutes ago and the complete joy she is feeling right now.

Opening her eyes, she can taste her freedom within her grasp. But… it did not take long for Hermione to realize that she had traded one terrifying situation with another.

As Buckbeak continued his trek through the snowy woods, Hermione started to see shapes flitting in the corner of her eyes. Shadows darting through the trees. At first, she thought it was her imagination playing tricks at her, but… the shadows started to grow in size the longer they forged on.

Her heart quickened. She wasn't possibly followed out of the castle… right?

Yet, the moment she heard a clicking sound behind her, she knew. They were being followed. But by what… she did not know.

She turned around, and removed her wand from its holster. Hair obscuring her eyes, Hermione released a sigh of exasperation and forcefully pulled her hair away from her eyes, at the same time, keeping a firm hold on the reigns. She sent a ball of light catering down the path behind her.

The moment she saw what was following her, she gasped in horror. A fresh wave of terror consumed her. Acromantulas…

Hermione forges on – the horde of Acromantula not bothering to hide anymore, jumping from the trees, chasing down their prey and closing in on her fast. She pointed her wand at one of the large spiders, who got a little bit too close, and tried to think of something to attack them with --- anything.

But nothing came to mind. Her brain was blank.

In her panic, she failed to see one of the spiders jumping in front of Buckbeak. Hermione pushed Buckbeak onward through the undergrowth. Branches and frozen leaves scratching her face, she closed her eyes. Hermione was unable to see where the horse was going, having deviated from the path a while ago.

And then Buckbeak ran right over a frozen pond.

Beneath his hooves, the ice groans. Yet, he does not hesitate. He continues to gallop onto the ice, and across the pond. Hermione looked down, seeing a web of cracks growing on the ice. Hermione leans forward, and tried to calm the horse, but to no avail. The sound of the ice cracking is deep and low, increasing by the second.

Suddenly, the cracks started to widen more and more. Buckbeak's hooves slide on the ice, while the large spider closes in. Hermione's panic started to reach an all-time high as the sounds of the clicking spiders grew louder and louder.

She looked around, not knowing what to do. The ice was cracking from the horses' massive weight, and the Acromantulas are getting closer. She did not know what to do—

Until she felt Buckbeak's powerful haunches bunch beneath him. Her eyes widened. Hermione grabbed a fistful of his mane, and tensed up—

— Just as the massive horse leaped the rest of the way across the pond.

Hermione's breath caught as she was suspended in the air for a moment, until Buckbeak landed on the shoreline of the pond. She breathed a sigh of relief—

— When she felt a massive weight landing behind her. Her body chilled as she fell down, only to be greeted by a massive Acromantula bearing down at her, its pincers clicking all the while. She was still for a moment, frozen as she stared at the menacing beady eyes of the creature before her. 

A jolt went through her veins as she saw the enormous spider leap at her. Wand still in hand, she cast a shield around her, which rebounded the massive spider away from her. The strength of the spell was so powerful that the gigantic spider skidded across the frozen pond, seemingly dazed.

She snapped as she saw another spider creeping closer to her horse, who was trying to kick them away. Seeing more of the arachnid monsters coming closer from the corner of her eye, she blasted a cutting charm in that direction. A loud bang ricocheted in the clearing as snow and ice exploded off the ground, hitting the hungry spiders there.

Hermione breathed heavily, eyes darting everywhere. No matter where she looked, she kept seeing Acromantulas everywhere, all in different sizes. Most were as small as a house cat, while a couple were horse-sized. The large ones were far away, but even from a distance, she can see the hunger in their eyes. She shivered, knowing that if they were to get her, she will not be able to escape their clutches alive.

She backed away from the horde, itching closer to Buckbeak who was still kicking any spiders that were coming close to them. She turned to confront another, raising her wand when a small one jumped on her arm. Caught unaware, Hermione flinched; her wand fell and in a fit of panic, swatted the spider off her with a hand.

It flew away, hitting one of the trees with an audible thud. The pincers of the massive spiders clicked even loudly; the Acromantulas clearly agitated by the fall of one of their brethren.

The largest Acromantula in the group – clearly the leader – slowly made its way towards her. Hermione stood petrified, not noticing that the majority of the spiders parted away from the human-horse pair, making way for their leader to come closer. Its beady black eyes, full of hunger and darkness stared down at her. A trail of venom leaking on the snow.

Hermione did not know what to do. She heard of these spiders, and read about how dangerous they are. She read the accounts of people encountering them and what have become of them, or more accurately, what became with what was left of them.

Heart beating erratically in her chest, she stood frozen as she saw the massive spider ready to charge at her, staring at her with these cold, hungry eyes.

The only thing Hermione can do now was to brace herself. There was no chance for her to win against this monster. She stood there and closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate—

The Acromantula leaped, pincers wide open—

— Until she heard a crunching sound and a thud. A few moments passed, and Hermione tentatively opened her eyes, scared to see what is going on. When she saw…

… That beastly Lord, crushing the head of the Acromantula in his claws. With supernatural strength, he hurled the body of the Acromantula across the frozen pond. The weight of the massive spider, coupled with the cracks already there, were too much for the fragile frozen surface of the pond. With a shattering splash, the Acromantula's body broke through the ice and fell into the pool, disappearing into its depths.

Silence reigned in the clearing.

Hermione's eyes widened. The Lord turned and looked at her, his forest green eyes clashing with brown. She stared at his eyes, and opened her mouth—

— When one of the spiders jumped on his back. With a roar, he grabbed the small spider and threw it across the clearing. The spiders, snapping out of their stupor, jumped and crawled on the back of the Beast, injecting him with his venom. One after another, the spiders jumped on the back of the Beast and each time, he managed to pick them up and hurl them away. Some of the smaller ones were even crushed in the palm of his claws.

This went on for a while, as the horde of spiders attacked. Each time they were either thrown away and killed. At one point, the other massive Acromantula attacked from behind the Beast’s back. But he merely ripped the creature off his strong furry back. Holding the face of the spider between his claws, their eyes locked. And then, the Beast with the last of his energy, threw the Acromantula through the hole in the ice.

The massive Acromantula flailed in the cold water, but to no avail. It quickly sank to the bottom of the lake, drowning in its dark abyss. Seeing another one of its leader’s dead, the rest of the spiders retreated, scrambling away back into the woods; pincers echoing through the trees.

The Lordly Beast waited until he sensed all of the Acromantulas have escaped before letting out a whimper of pain. His shoulders, which were tense and rigid, slumped when he was sure the danger was gone. He turned around, his eyes clashing with Hermione's for one last time…

He collapsed in the snow. When his wounds touch the ground, the bright white snow turned red.

Hermione stood, unable to move. Rooted in the ground as she is, she was not aware of anything but the body of the Beast who had saved her life. Buckbeak, sensing that the danger has passed, slowly approached Hermione and huffed in her ear. Jumping slightly, she snapped out of her stupor and absentmindedly patted the horse, not knowing what to do.

She turned around, fixing the reins on the horse, ensuring that everything is secured. Her head kept yelling at her, begging her to take the chance and finally make her way to freedom. This was her chance to run, to finally make her way back home. But… her heart is saying otherwise. She glanced back at the body of the wounded Lord, blood seeping on the cold harsh ground, and then looked back over Buckbeak’s saddled-back, to the woods—to her most desired freedom.

Hearing another whimper from the Beast, she turned around. As she watched him slowly move, she winced as she saw his faint effort in trying to stand. His efforts only ended up with him shakily collapsed back on the ground. His green eyes met hers for only the briefest of moments, but it was enough. Seeing the hurt and vulnerability so deeply embedded in them, she made her decision. She was not going to leave him there.

She couldn't. Not after what he did to save her.

Turning back, she slowly approached the wounded Beast. She knelt down on the ground beside him, and gently pulled the cloak off her person, covering the Beast with it. The Lordly Beast slowly stirs, one eye opening slightly.

"You have to help me…" Hermione whispered gently, "You have to stand…"

Feeling his temperature declining rapidly, Hermione grit her teeth, her mind working speedily. Thinking of ways to solve the mammoth task ahead. How is she carrying the Beastly Lord who weighed so much more than herself back to his castle? She shivered as another burst of wind blew through the clearing. She needed to get him back to the castle before it was too late.


	18. Chapter XVII

Deep within the woods, the trees casting menacing shadows in every corner, a lone carriage moves slowly through the trodden path. Sitting in the back of his carriage Draco shivers, grey eyes warily darting around him. Ron, sitting beside him tightly held his wand, twitching every time he heard a rustle of leaves. They have been on the road for hours now, venturing deep into the woods at Richards request. The rest of the crowd, who followed him after being reassured that everything is going to be safe, went back inside the tavern once Draco made it clear that he is going to venture into the woods. Some of the villagers offered their help, but he declined it. It would not do to have any witnesses to what he is planning.

Now though… he is getting tired and annoyed. He withheld a sneer as he continued to guide his stead on the beaten path. He had thought of enacting his plan hours ago, but for integrities sake he decided to humor the obviously crazy man. Would not do to not even attempt the so-called 'rescue mission' and call it a day.

That is not the type of sly cunning his father taught him.

"Look! See that slash on the tree? I know we are getting closer! That means we are getting closer to the junction."

Draco forced a smile on his face, "Mr. Granger, are you sure this is the way? We have passed so many trees with slashes on its bark, that we may have overlooked the junction a while ago. How can you be sure that they weren’t the same one?"

Richard shook his head, his previously messy hair now completely unkempt and wild. Eyes wild and sharp as he gazed around the forest desperately, searching for other signs. "I am sure this is the way. Can't you see the snow billowing in the distance? Can't you feel the air getting colder and colder the deeper we venture into the woods? That means we are getting very close to the castle!"

Draco glanced at Ron and shook his head. Richard said the same thing half an hour ago. He may have humored the old man for Hermione's sake but this has been getting too far. Squinting in the darkness, and not seeing a hint of snow, he laughed out loud.

Richard whirled his head towards the sound and furrowed his eyebrows. "Why are you laughing? My daughter—"

"Yes! I know," Draco interrupted, "Hermione is stuck in some… 'dark and scary castle' with a 'monster' as a warden. You have said that multiple times already." Glancing at the old man from the corner of his eyes, he continued, "But we have been on the road for hours now, and as far as I can see…" he gestured, "… I fail to see any sort of evidence to support your claims. Are you… sure that what you said is true?"

Richard grit his teeth. He knew that his tale sounds farfetched to the casual listener, but… He was there. He was sure of it. He had been trapped in that prison cell for days, terrified for his life. It may sound like a crazy man’s delusions, but… they weren’t.

"Your silence speaks for itself, Mr. Granger," Draco piped, unaware of the state of the man in the carriage. Draco tightly smiled at him, patience nearing its end, "Why don't we turn back? We can continue the search tomorrow when the sun is up, when our bodies and minds are refreshed with the start of a new day." 

He opened his mouth, argument at the tip of his tongue, when he spotted something in the distance. He squinted, trying to discern the familiar shape in the distance.

"_Stop_! That's it!" Richard exclaimed, pointing ahead.

Following the old man's finger, Draco looked ahead, tilting his head at what he was seeing. It was a tree that looked distinctly cane like. Withered branches spiraling out of the trunk, its surface smooth, showing its old age. In the tall tale Richard kept blabbing, he repeatedly mentioned a cane-like tree which was apparently struck by lightning that revealed a hidden path behind it. But the longer he looked, the more certain he is of the old man’s sanity… or lack thereof. For the tree is upright, despite having apparently been struck by lightning. And no matter how he looked around it, there is no path hidden behind it.

He may be… questionable. But stupid, he is undoubtedly not.

However, before he was able to utter a single word, the mad man hops off the seat of the carriage, rushing towards the tree in question. "That is the tree!" Richard exclaims, "I am sure of it! Of course, it was downed by lightning at the time, but now it's been restored to its upright position, so clearly," he whirled around, eyes bright, "what I said was true! Now all we need to do, is to cut down this tree, and then we will be in the snow-covered woods—"

Draco stared at the man as he continued to spew weird phrases out of his head. He grits his teeth, patience holding by a thin thread, "Mr. Granger, I do not know if you know but," he interrupted patronizingly, "you _do _know that anything that was dead cannot be restored. A tree such as this one is a live being and _surely _you _know _that the same rule applies to plants." He pointed at the tree in question, pointing at the smooth and clear trunk, "This tree… was never cut down. For even plants, once plucked and dead, cannot be brought back to life." He shook his head, holding in his laughter. Who would have thought that such a smart and alluring woman as Hermione was sired by such a stupid man? Even the dimmest minds knew that.

Draco crossed his legs and relaxed, watching as Richard continued to sputter and lie. It was rather entertaining to watch the poor old man deny what he said. Ron, who has been watching the spectacle in front of him, winced. No wonder Hermione was so odd if _this _is the specimen of a man to have raised her. If she had a mother… surely, she wouldn't have been so standoffish all the time. Ron leaned forward, whispering in Draco's ear, "Do you… really want to marry into this family? Surely… that is not a good example of a father-in-law… right?"

Draco nodded as he continued to eye the man. No matter the family she was part of before, once she is married into his family… that will no longer matter. He can order Hermione to never be in touch with her father again and she would be forced to comply. She will be a part of his magical house after all; his word will be law.

"—that means the castle is definitely this way!"

Fed up with the endless blabbering of the fool, Draco frowned. With a flourish, he jumps off the carriage and approaches Richard slowly, the way someone would approach a skittish creature. "Mr. Granger, would you please stop… yapping already?" he snapped, laying his cold gaze on the man, "Enough playing around. I am sick and tired of hearing any more of your tall tale. Where is Hermione?"

"Hermione? I already told you!" Richard was indignant. "She is in that-that Beast’s castle! Now, all you have to do is to blast that tree-" he pointed at the cane-like tree, "-go through the hidden path, and reach the castle! What don't you understand?"

Draco sighed whilst plastering a smile on his face. "Mr. Granger, in your tale, you mentioned that the tree was struck down by lightning. I don't know about you but…" he quirked an eyebrow, "that tree does not look signed to me. Let us say that… I take your word. That I believe your tale; how can you explain how a tree - which had _collapsed _due to it being struck by lightning – could possibly remain upright. Hmm?"

Richard glared at the man. "I don't know, _Mr. Malfoy. _Based on what I saw and experienced in that castle, the only explanation would be due to an Enchantress-"

"An Enchantress you say?" Draco scoffed, slowly walking towards the old man, "Don't make me laugh! An Enchantress is a witch of myth and legend; blessed by Magic to exact judgment upon all those who deserve it. The last rumored Enchantress to have appeared was a witch who have exacted judgment against an entire island nation in the Mediterranean Sea, banished to the bottom of the ocean. There hasn’t ever been a sighting of an Enchantress since then. And anyway, if they truly exist, then why didn't an Enchantress appear and end the War?"

"I don't know, but..." Richard hesitated. Everything Draco said… was true. It is a well-known fact that the last rumored sighting of an Enchantress was a few thousand years ago. Everyone knew about it — the Great Nation of Atlantis. He also knew that many people prayed for an Enchantress to come and end the war against Voldemort, but to no avail; for none appeared during the great conflict. But… "It is the only explanation," he said, remembering the cold and snowy weather, the Acromantulas, the castle, and the Beast. "There is nothing else that can explain everything that I saw in there."

Draco shook his head. Tired of attempting to reason with the obviously distraught man, he turned around and started to make his way back to the carriage. "Look, Mr. Granger," Draco tried to reason, "Why don't we just… turn around and go back to the village. Are you sure you did not check your house for your daughter? For who knows, maybe she is already at home, cooking up a lovely dinner…"

"You think I made all this up, don't you?" Richard asked. He stared in confusion at the man in front of him. "If you did not believe me… then why did you offer to help?"

"Because I want to marry your daughter, Mr. Granger." Draco said, "And I came here to help you. But seeing as the night has settled a while ago, and you seem to have a desperate need to rest, I propose we continue searching for her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Richard said, his face starting to flush in anger. "My daughter is trapped in a bloody castle, most likely terrified to death, and all you want to do is go back to bed? She's with the –"

Rage flooded over Draco and he erupted. "_Look old man, if you say the word 'Beast' one more time, I will leave you here to your death."_ He hissed; all of his composure gone.

Ron watched in horror as his friend went dark, his normal façade discarded in the face of his rage. His blood went cold as he saw the manner which Draco now looked at Hermione's father. Gulping, he quickly shook his head and rushed over to his friend, praying that he will be able to break through to him. Reaching just as Draco started to walk in the direction of the distraught man, he grabbed his forearm, forcing his friend to look at him. The look in his eyes, glazed and calculating, froze Ron in his tracks.

With the knowledge that this anger is not directed at him, he smiled tentatively, hoping to break his friend out of the state he is in, "Think of Hermione, Draco… Think of how beautiful she will look when wearing a white dress as she stands in the courtyard of Malfoy manor, beaming as she says 'I do'…"

Ever so slowly, Draco started to take deep breaths, his mind completely imagining the scene in front of him. The more Ron continued to talk, describing the gown, her face, and her voice when she whispers her wedding vows. To the images of his and her children running amok in the courtyard… It was enough. Remembering the main purpose for why he was taking such extreme measures, he took a deep calming breath, her image in the forefront of his mind as his anchor to controlling his wild temper.

"Hermione… right…" taking one last deep inhale, he harshly breathed the air out of his lungs, his anger and frustrations seemingly escaping from him. Turing around to his friend, he clasped his hand on Ron's shoulder, not realizing how his red-headed friend flinched from the action. "Thank you, my friend, I almost lost it there."

"N-no problem mate. Any time." Ron stuttered, smoothly removing himself out of Draco's range. He breathed a sigh of relief as Draco turned his gaze back at Mr. Granger, who was still standing there, petrified.

Draco, unaware of the others’ reactions to his lapse in composure, plastered a fake cheery smile on his face. Acting as if nothing wrong had ever happened, he walked back to the petrified man, whose face kept getting paler and paler the closer Draco approached. He placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder, lightly squeezing it. "Please… Forgive me, old bean, but that is no way to talk to my future father-in-law now, is it?" He smiled at the old man. But it didn't reach Draco's eyes.

That wasn't lost on Richard. The fact that the seemingly kind and respected man in front of him had a clear dark side... He removed the man's hand off his shoulder. "Mr. Malfoy," Richard said, backing away from Draco, "Now that I have seen your true self, know this. For as long as I live, you will never, _ever _receive my blessing to marry my daughter."

All of a sudden, the air stilled. Ron gulped as he felt the tension rise between the two men. He glanced at Draco, and backed away to the carriage, and started to pray. Draco's temper was already at an all-time high, irritated by the long trip he took, so for the father of the girl Draco wants to marry to say that… Well… A drop of sweat fell down the side of his face. _This will end badly._

Draco remained standing there, rigid. Then all of a sudden, he laughed, startling the two men. Clearly unhinged, his voice was carried over by the wind. Then he stopped abruptly, hair obscuring his eyes from everyone's view. "Well well…" Draco said, chuckling. "It… seems that I now have no choice. You see, _Mr. Granger?_ You have forced my hand," he lifted his head, his cold dead eyes staring deeply through Richard. "You thought you had a choice in the manner, didn't you? That if you said _no, _that will be it; that I will nod and accept your judgment, walking away never to return… didn't you? But… what you did not know… is that in reality, you have no say in the matter."

He straightened the collar of his red robe, "You see… No matter what you say, no matter what anyone else says… Hermione is going to be my wife. I gave you the option of agreeing, simply because it is something that Hermione deeply expects to happen if she were to marry, but since you would rather never see her marry me in this life… Maybe once you are dead, you will have a change of opinion, right?"

Before Richard was able to do anything, he was pushed to the ground, falling harshly on the rough ground below. He groaned as he tried to stand up, but… it was no use. He did not have a chance of reprieve from the moment he left that wretched castle, and was too weak to do anything. Richard winced as he felt ropes twisting around him, immobilizing him in place. He valiantly tried to reach his wand but it was to no avail.

In his struggles to free himself, it took time for him to notice a pair of boots right beside his face.

"Don't worry Mr. Granger. I will make sure that it is going to be completely painless."

With a flash of red, Richard knew no more.


	19. Chapter XVIII

Hermione wiped the sweat off her brow as she continued to brew, keeping a critical eye on the color, smell and consistency of the potion she is currently laboring over. Ever since she and Buckbeak finally managed to drag Lord Potter back to the castle, she had been fraught with nerves, constantly checking his condition. The last thing she wanted was for him to die on her watch.

It was especially difficult as she had to traverse the cold environment wearing thin shoes, and without a cloak. It took her some time to figure out how to drag the wounded Lord back to the castle and took even more to actually be safely confined within its walls, the cold finally bared by the stone walls.

Hermione was greeted by a frantically worried Mrs. Weasley. After seeing the condition of the beasty Lord, the enchanted teapot quickly helped her to guide him back to his suite. It was delicate work, especially since he was so injured but they managed to make do with what seemed like an impossible task. When she asked if they had any healing potions in stock, Hermione was aghast to learn that they barely had any of the potions needed to treat the severely wounded Lord.

She was frantic in her search for any more, for surely with the number of staff – curse or no curse – there must be more potions in this enormous castle _somewhere. _She did manage to find a subpar collection of potions hidden in one of the dusty drawers in an abandoned guestroom. Found just in the right time, for it contained a fair collection of antidotes in their collection, including a bezoar.

The moment she found the stone, she rushed back to the Lords room and, expertly avoided the sharp fangs, forced him to swallow the stone. It wasn't much she knew, but it was enough to counter the venom that was coursing through his veins.

After that incident, she did ask about the lack of supplies in the castle. She was horrified when she was told that they have used most of the potions on the Lord during the early stages of the curse. It was apparently back when the curse was still fresh, and during his rage, constantly hurt himself when he threw his rage on the furniture in his room.

Hermione winced when she was told that, remembering the state it was in when she went to explore the west wing. Broken furniture… Cracked and collapsed columns… It was no wonder that what potions they had in stock were now mostly consumed. 

She did ask why then didn't brew anymore, but the staff member she was talking to, regretfully just shook his non-human frame. For in their current state, it was simply too difficult and dangerous for them to even attempt brewing the simplest of potions. Any mistake can severely damage them, and with no one around who can heal the damage, it will most probably be fatal.

Hermione sighed, sniffing the solution she was currently working on. It will not do for her to be so distracted. She needed to finish this in order for her to help treat all of the Lords injuries.

With one last stir, she quickly removed the cauldron from the fire, throwing a stasis charm on the potion once she was sure that it is complete. Dousing the fire, she sighed and went to the meticulous task of pouring the solution in flasks, grateful for the help of the twin teacups. She was sure that if it weren’t for their help, she would have spent hours pouring the potions into the flasks. Which was the last thing she wanted to happen.

Glad for the fact that she wouldn't be wasting any more time, she quickly grabbed a collection of the freshly poured flasks and placed them in a little basket. Double checking that she had everything she needed, she glanced around the lab, making sure that everything was back in their place.

"C'mon Hermione!"

"Best to hurry back up to the West Wing. Merlin knows what sort of mood Harry is going to be in."

"Well Fred, have you really forgotten? You know how he is whenever he is injured and sick,"

"Grouchy,"

"Moody,"

"Sulky,"

"Pouty,"

Hermione held in a small giggle as she continued to watch the little rambunctious teacups. She softly smiled, as she gently closed the door to the lab, all whilst listening to the two boys continuously talk over one another.

"Fred! George! What did I tell you both to _not _do in front of Ms. Granger?" Mrs. Weasley frowned as her trolley rolled closer to them. The two teacups, finally noticing the approach of the trolley, grinned widely as they hopped onto the tray, the sound of the ceramic scratching against the metal surface screeched loudly in Hermione's ears.

"Goodness me, be _careful_! You don't want to be broken into many tiny pieces now, do we?"

"Yes mom, we heard you." George cheerfully said.

"We shall try our best not to accidentally find ourselves in many indistinguishable pieces on the floor." Fred continued.

George nodded; a solemn look in his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, "You lot don't want to learn now, do you? Off to bed you lot, we have more important things to do than hear you both yapping in our ears. Come on, tut-tut!"

Hermione shook her head as she watched the two teacups laugh and jump off the tray, hitting the floor loudly. Mrs. Weasley screeched as she yelled after at the two boys who were hopping away laughing all the way down the corridor.

"Honestly, those two… When would they ever learn…?" Mrs. Weasley muttered once they were alone once more.

Hermione smiled somewhat tiredly, "Well, I think they are quite charming."

"Charming! Oh dear, that won't do… If they heard you talking like that, they would be insufferable." Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her frame. "I cannot fathom the mayhem they would cause if someone were to—heaven forbid—_compliment _them in their presence! The castle might implode!"

Hermione snorted as she tried to imagine that scenario. Based on what she had already seen, she wouldn't bet against that statement.

Looking down to triple check her supplies, Hermione was so engrossed in her task that she was unaware where she was going. The next thing she knew, she was brought out of her stupor by the voice of the teapot beside her.

"Well…" Mrs. Weasley said, looking up at Hermione, "We are here."

Hermione blinked, staring at a familiar wooden door. She looked around and was startled to see so many of the staff hovering outside the door.

"C'mon dear, if you won't mind. May you open the door?" the teapot said with a smile on her frame. Although, Hermione could tell that it didn't reach her eyes.

Hermione did not want to waste any more time. She nodded at the teapot and shifted the basket in her arm, using her other one to open the door. With a creek, she looked around the room, shocked to see that most of the damage and mess was cleaned up. The floor, the walls… Even the ceiling had been cleaned up in her absence. It seemed that while she was busy brewing her potions, the staff took advantage of the state of their Lord to sneakily clean up the entire room.

Entering the suite, she cannot help but glance at the far-off wall. The hooks that were there were all removed, and the wall looked to have been washed.

However, she was alarmed to find the two portraits she saw previously still hung. But her shock wasn't because they were still there, but rather due to the expressions on the couple’s faces in the still intact portrait.

The last time she saw them, they looked sad and downright depressed, eyes filled with sadness. But now, as her eyes caught the expression on both of their faces, she can now easily see the hope in them. Tentative smiles adorning their faces as they looked at her then at the bed.

Seeing that, Hermione ventured deeper into the room towards the bed. When she last visited the room before she escaped, it was coated with dust. Now the headboard and canopy were shining like new, while new linens covered the surface of the king-sized bed.

Approaching the bed, Hermione spotted the Lord lying on the bed, a grimace marring his severe features. 

"Glad to see you're finally awake," Hermione piped, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know. How would _you _feel if you were attacked by a horde of Acromantulas?" Harry sniped. He turned his massive head away from Hermione, but not before he caught the smirk adorning her face.

She didn't respond as she poured some hot water into a bowl and poured a small portion of one of her potions into the water. She dipped a clean strip of cloth into warm water and rang out the excess solution out of the cloth. Ever so gently, Hermione dabbed the wet cloth on one of the gashes on the Lords arm.

The reaction was immediate. He roared and tried to pry his arm away from Hermione's reach. "That hurts woman! Don't you see I am hurt enough?" he snarled, baring his teeth.

"I can see that," Hermione retorted, "If you held still, this would not hurt as much."

"Well, if _you _hadn't run away," he said, his jaw clenched, "this wouldn't have happened"

"That is true," Hermione nodded, gently dabbing another gash, "However, you seem to have forgotten that if _you_ hadn't frightened me, I would not have run away"

Mrs. Weasley quirked her eyebrow as she continued to watch the two continue to bicker. It has been a long time since she had seen Harry opening up to that extent with another person. Sensing someone else nearby, she turned around, spotting Sirius hovering nervously by the door. Exchanging a knowing glance, they turned back to the couple who was _still _squabbling over whose fault it was.

"Well…" Harry went on, determined to get the last word in, "You shouldn't have been in the West Wing."

Hermione wasn't going to back down. "And _you_ should learn to control your anger."

Harry opened his mouth to respond then closed it. Opened it again then closed it once more. With a huff, he turned his head away and did not respond. She had him there.

Busy dabbing another wound once more, the smile she had on her face faded. She may have been jesting, but the wounds… they were worse than she thought. It was a blessing for her to have found a bezoar when she had, or else the Lord’s condition would have been much worse. Her face hardening in determination, she grabbed a roll of bandages and started to gently wrap the wounds, being ultra-careful not to jostle them too much.

In the silence of the room, with Hermione focused on the task she is doing, she failed to see the inquisitive look the Lord had thrown her way. Forest green eyes curiously analyzing the face of the woman who was taking care of him. She had seen nothing but the terrible side of him the moment she entered his castle and seeing how she was doing her best to care for him… A twinge twisted in his gut.

Hermione was non-the-wiser. Wrapping the bandage one final time around the last wound, she smiled. Taking out her wand, she spelled the bandages to remain fastened until the gashes are closed. With a satisfied hum, she placed the wand on the dresser and reached over for the basket. Rummaging inside it, she extracted a total of four flasks full with colorful potions onto the dresser. Taking the first one, and seeing the odd look on the Lord’s face, she quirked her eyebrow.

He averted his eyes in response.

"Now," she said, "I will need you to take a few potions before you go to bed. It will help purge any remaining venom in your body as well as completely heal all of your injuries."

Harry's face twisted.

"Hey now!" Hermione said. "Don't give me that. It is either you take the potions and suffer for a few days, or not take anything and suffer for a month. Your choice."

Harry glared at the woman. He kept his mouth closed and refused to respond to the question. He'd rather suffer than take any of those ghastly potions. They smelt revolting to his sensitive nose. He dreaded to imagine how terrible they would taste.

Hermione shook her head as she took in the stubborn jut of his chin. "Last chance."

He refused to dignify her with an answer.

Sighing, she uncorked the first flask, "I guess you give me no choice…" jabbing her wand at the direction of the stubborn oaf, she cast a couple of spells on his person. The first was a simple immobilizing hex and a second to force his mouth open. Ignoring the panic in his eyes, she gleefully poured the entire contents of the potion down his throat.

Once done with the first flask, she cast a quick finite. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Harry sputtered; grabbing the large glass of water and downing it in one go. "Heaven's sake woman!" He snarled, "Don't you know how to take no for an answer? That was revolting!"

"Well, if you have bothered to dignify me with an answer, then this would not have happened now." Hermione piped, reaching for the second flask. "Now, stop being a big baby and let me take care of you."

Harry warily stared at the flask in question, nose twitching from the smell. "… How many more do you have?"

"Three."

"_Three_!" Harry exclaimed, stomach protesting, "Since you are so good apparently, why didn't you at least attempt to make them easier on the stomach?"

Hermione quirked her eyebrow. "I am pretty sure you know why. The potion would lose its effectiveness if it was altered in such a way. Now come on." She said, handing him the flask, "the sooner I finish giving you the potions, the sooner it is for you to rest."

His hand shook, eyes filled with conflict. Then… they stopped. In a movement Hermione did not expect, he quickly gulped down the entire flask in a matter of seconds. Hermione watched with wide eyes. She had expected him to fight for a while longer against taking the potions. Heck, she made sure to bring extras in case he decided to throw the flask against a wall or something.

Reluctantly handing the now empty flask back, Harry averted his eyes. He saw the look in the woman's eyes and can understand her confusion. Hell, he didn't expect himself to comply with the woman's demands so quickly. "… Two more to go." He muttered.

"That’s… Right." She handed him a third flask, which he downed in the same way. He made to grab the last flask when she held it away from him, "This one is going to help you sleep soundly while the other potions do their work." Hermione said softly, "You will wake up with most of your discomforts gone, but… It will take more than one day to bring you back to top form." 

Hermione smiled as she gently placed the flask in his claw, "Goodnight."

* * *

Making sure that her patient is fast asleep, she yawned as made her way to the door of the suite. It had been a tiring day. What with what happened to her father, and all of the events which transpired afterward, it is a miracle that she still had the energy to move around.

Mid-yawn, she failed to see that there were others standing just outside, waiting for her. To her surprise, Mrs. Weasley and Sirius were standing right outside the door. In her shame, she had completely forgotten about them when she ran out of the castle, and even later when she was busy tending to her patient.

"I—"

"Thanks to you, my lady," Sirius interrupted with a bow, "We are eternally grateful for everything you have done for Harry. I am sure that if… If it wasn't for you," he said, sniffing slightly, "he would…"

"No longer be with us." Mrs. Weasley said, smiling gratefully at Hermione whilst perched on her trolley. "My dear… thank you."

Hermione absently nodded, surprised to see the deep concern and worry in their eyes. She would have thought that with how cruel and callous he had been, that they wouldn't care if the Lord were to pass. Yet, both of them, and practically every single one of the Cursed human-turned-knickknacks, were frantic with worry when he was brought back to the castle.

It just didn't make any sense.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Why do you care so much about him, if he were the one to have caused all of you to be cursed alongside him?" she asked in confusion. Hermione winced slightly after she asked the question. She didn’t mean to be so blunt.

Mrs. Weasley smiled wryly, "We have looked after him all his life. Sirius more than I but… we cannot help it."

"But… He still cursed you somehow," Hermione protested. How can all these people just ignore that fact? It is so strange for them to just accept it just like that. When the candelabrum and teapot continued to remain silent, she pressed, "Isn't it unfair? For all of you to be punished for something you didn't do?"

_That _got a reaction. Both Sirius and Mrs. Weasley winced. They looked at each other, and seemed to have a silent conversation amongst each other. Hermione stayed silent and continued to watch this silent spectacle. A minute passed before Sirius nodded at Mrs. Weasley.

"You... See my dear," Sirius slowly started, "When Harry was a young lad, a great evil breached the wards when he was just a baby. That evil came for the single purpose of killing Harry. Yet... After he killed the late Lord and Lady," he said whilst glancing at the portrait of the young couple, "he moved forward and raised his wand, fully intending to finish his task. But… he failed. That great evil was banished for a time, and young Harry was left orphaned."

Sirius's voice hitched, and Mrs. Weasley seeing him lose some of his composure, continued for him. "None of the Lord’s friends were able to be located after that tragic incident; so instead, Harry was left in the care of his Aunt and Uncle. But…"

"Care? Please…," Sirius said bitterly. "They hated Harry and everything he stood for. They were well off, sure, but due to the rules of inheritance, they had no chance of touching anything that belonged to him. So… they neglected him, and in time... He started to emulate their actions. All in the hope of gaining their affection. It took years for their attitudes to change, but… by that time…"

Mrs. Weasley sighed, "It was too late. He had truly lost himself in the act he put up for them. And we…"

"… Weren’t able to do anything." Sirius deflated, "We were there for most of his life. True, but we were forced to never interact with him outside of a professional relationship. He is my godson… But I wasn't able to do anything at the time. I wasn't able to, what with the vows that were forced upon me. I was allowed to stay beside him as a mentor, but nothing more. I was there… right beside him… and all I could do was watch as he grew up into this shell of a man…"

"… And we did nothing to stop it." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "As time passed, all traces of happiness were taken from the castle, only to be replaced with darkness and heartlessness. At that point… His relatives have finally left, leaving Harry in the castle. We were finally free from the vows that were forced upon us. We tried to help him. We… We tried to bring back the innocent boy he once was… But…"

"By that point…" Sirius sighed, his flames dimming "… it was too late."

Hermione leaned against the door. She had no words for what she heard.

Minutes passed as she stared at the closed door, her mind whirling with many thoughts, but unable to identify even one. Hearing a moan from the bed, all three of them turned to watch the Lord move restlessly in bed before setting once more.

Turning around, Hermione's eyes fell on the glass jar and at the beautiful enchanted rose, petals softly glowing. She made her way to the jar, careful not to touch it. "Why happens once the last petal falls?" she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"Harry becomes a beast forever…" Sirius replied, "And we become-"

"Antiques," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Knickknacks," Sirius added.

Remus, who had just arrived at the last bit of the conversation, cleared his throat. "Rubbish," he harshly said, "we become rubbish."

Hermione listened, her heart growing sad. She always felt like she was trapped back in Hogsmeade, forced to conform to a certain image. Everyone was supposed to look the same, talk the same, and act the same. She always felt bitter whenever she heard the mutterings of the villagers when they talk about her. Hermione knew that although she cannot stand the way she is living, she always had the choice of leaving whenever she pleases. Everyone else in this castle though? They do not have that option. They are trapped here; made to become something they are not and stuck within these hallowed walls…

And… As she glanced at the bulge underneath the covers, her heart went for the man beneath the beast. How desperate should a person be to lose themselves whilst wearing a mask that is not theirs? It is… She cannot…

"I want to help you," Hermione said, surprising herself and the others. "There must be some way to lift the curse."

There was a heavy pause as the staff exchanged looks. Remus cleared his throat. "Well… there is _one—"_

"It is not for you to worry about, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, throwing Remus a stern look. "We have made our bed and we must lie in it."

* * *

Hermione yawned as she slowly made her way up towards her room. Forcing the very heavy conversation off her mind for now, Hermione cannot help but wonder how she can break the curse. Mrs. Weasley did tell her not to worry about it, but she cannot help but want to try.

It was the least she can do after what everyone went through…

"Ugh…" she moaned, as she finally spotted the door to her room. She will think about it at a later time. Hopefully, once she is fully rested, she'll figure it out.

When Hermione finally finished preparing herself for bed, head resting against the soft feathered pillows she closed her eyes, the last thing she thought about as she fell asleep was a pair of forest green eyes that sparkled like emeralds whenever he had a striking burst of emotion… 


	20. Chapter XIX

Leaves rustle as birds chirp, flying about singing songs of merriment. A lone figure hummed in tune, dancing on the forest floor.

It was a beautiful day.

As the figure continued to dance about, eyes following things that are unseen, they halted to a stop.

Tilting their head, a pair of grey eyes stared curiously ahead.

"… You seem to have lost your way. Don't worry…"

The figure stepped forward, ash-blond locks twirling in the breeze…

"I'll fix you up in no time."

* * *

Hermione yawned as she made her way towards the potions’ lab; her footsteps echoing all throughout the hallway. A little less than a week had passed since Harry – as he basically ordered her to call him – came into the castle after he risked his life to save hers. She was busy at first, tending to the slightly fluctuating health of the furry beast, but a few days in and she started to get bored, once it stabilized.

All that was left was to wait for the antidote of the venom to run its course.

In an effort to busy herself, she tried to help out. But whenever she attempted to do something around the castle, she was shooed away, sometimes even outright kicked out of some rooms.

It was only when Remus saw her walking aimlessly through the corridors when he directed her back to the potions lab. Since then, whenever she wasn't tending to Harry or talking with the staff, she'd lock herself there. Always busy; wither it be by brewing, prepping potion ingredients, or even reading the handful of books available in the room.

It was a blessing that there were so many ingredients available for her use, some of which she only read about in potions textbooks and Herbology manuals. She didn't open any of the cabinets containing those ingredients when she was preparing the potions for Harry's recovery. There was no need; most of what she needed were easily acquired from the kitchens.

Yet… When she first laid eyes on the contents of the cabinet… she had to restrain herself from jumping up and down when she saw the contents. Unicorn hair, Acromantula blood, Basilisk venom... There was even a small vial filled with phoenix tears! She had no idea where all of these items were found, and frankly, she didn't care.

So, with a wide variety of potion ingredients, and all of the required tools she will ever need, she had set herself for the task ahead of her. She had spent hours here, preparing potion ingredients and brewing simple potions that may or may not be useful.

Glancing at the couple of cauldrons she had prepared last night, she rolled up her sleeve and set to work. Busy in her own little world, humming whilst chopping ingredients, Hermione lost any sense of time and awareness.

She especially failed to notice that at some point, she was no longer alone.

"So this is where you have been..." A rough voice muttered in the silence of the room.

Hermione though shrieked at the sudden sound, accidentally throwing more nestle leaves than what was needed in the cauldron… She wasn't able to react fast enough as the solution sputtered and sizzled, quickly turning from a bright yellow into a murky brown.

Her eyes widened. She knew what was going to happen... But she knew she was too slow to react. She raised her arms over her face and closed her eyes in the hope of protecting herself as much as she was able to.

Hermione suddenly felt herself being yanked backwards and pushed under a table, just as the potion exploded.

Ears ringing from the loud sound, she shivered. Too tense to open her eyes, she flinched when she felt something softly poke her head.

"Are you alright?"

Shivering underneath the working table, spoilt potion solution dripping onto the floor, Hermione slowly opened her eyes. Finding herself tuckered and pressed against something firm, she slowly pushed away, only to realize that she had been plastered on the chest of someone.

"You know..." Her savior said gruffly, "Is this going to be a habit? Saving you whenever I laid eyes on you?"

"Harry?" Hermione said, "What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to still be in bed?"

Harry shook his massive head and looked around at the mess. "If I weren't here, you would have been burnt for all I know," he shrugged his massive shoulders, "and I was getting bored."

Hermione stood up on her shaky feet, quickly spelling the mess away. She speedily looked over the potion ingredients she was working on and sighed. She was relieved to have found that none of the ingredients were contaminated by the... incident.

"I believe I told you what I was busy with days ago." Hermione said, sending a glare Harry's way, "That still doesn't explain why you aren’t in bed."

Harry's eyes suddenly looked guarded before he looked away from Hermione's gaze. But not before she caught the look in his eyes. She saw vulnerability there… and for once, instead of pressing the issue, she decided to ignore it. It wouldn't be fair for him to air out any feelings he may not want to share with her. 

Hermione huffed as she made her way back to the working bench and started to put away the ingredients already there. "Bah, ignore what I just said," Hermione dismissively said, waving her hand in Harry's direction, "I am more curious as to why you didn't knock on the door. Your voice came out of nowhere! If it weren't for that, I am sure that the potion wouldn't have been ruined."

Harry quirked a furry eyebrow, his green eyes filled with amusement, "I did knock, but after half an hour, I got tired from waiting for a response. So…"

"You barged in anyway?"

"Yes." 

Hermione sighed as she closed the cabinet. "Sorry about that," she said walking towards the bookshelf, "I tend to get lost when I am engrossed in doing something."

"I can clearly see that."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled one of the books off the shelf. She smiled at the book in hand, fingers softly caressing the cover. Tracing over the words engraved on the front, she tenderly opened the book, quickly reading over the table of contents. It wasn't much; it was a book tailored for young students but… she cannot help but smile as her eyes gazed over the list of potions in the book.

She may have a severe love for books, but with the measly wage her father had, she never truly indulged herself. Hermione remembered when she was a little child; she had a habit of wandering to the library. Even then, they never had much, but whenever she went, she always grabbed the same book and read it, losing herself in the pages. She used to read it so much that the librarian, seeing how much Hermione loved the book, gave it as a gift for her eleventh birthday.

It was the best day of her life.

The story was of a girl who used to sell roses in summer and matchsticks in winter. When the weather became too harsh for her, she started to use the matchsticks to stay warm. Only after she passed away did the townspeople notice her laying there in the snow; all of her matchsticks transfigured into red roses upon her death.

Since then, her father never failed to get a rose for her whenever he can.

"Hmm…" a voice behind her interrupted Hermione's musings, snapping her out of the melancholic mood she found herself in, "that is a good book, sure, but certainly not the best. It is only good for people who are just starting to learn how to brew. Why were you reading it?"

Hermione turned, finding herself facing Harry. While she was standing there lost in her mind, Harry apparently got fed up with trying to get her attention again and decided to see what caught it. "You read this book?" her voice filled with disbelief. She blushed as she registered what she said, remembering the tale Mrs. Weasley and Sirius said to her. Although Harry was apparently mistreated by his relatives, he was still a _Lord. _For her to question his knowledge so blatantly… She winced.

"Sorry…" Hermione muttered, averting her eyes. Scared to face another retaliation, she quickly continued, "I did not mean-"

"To say that, I can tell." Harry said, eyes alighting in amusement in his furry face, "I did have an expensive education."

"Then… Why are the only books here so… basic as you put it?" she asked, eyes glancing at the smattering of books on the shelves, "The only ones I can find are those, and even then, the most advanced one was that one." She pointed at the book she had been previously checking.

"There are other books to read."

"Like _what?_" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. She crossed her arms, challenge alighted in her eyes.

All Harry did was turn around and start walking towards the door, completely ignoring her sputtered reaction.

"Hold on a second! Where do you think you are going? You are still injured." She hurried after him, "Let me help you get back to your room."

He waved her away, "You know… I may be weak, but that does not mean I am disabled."

Hermione widened her eyes as she quickly followed after him. Her eyes surveyed the lab one last time before she locked it. Harry however slowly made his way out of the room, Hermione had no choice but to follow.

By the time they made it up a flight of stairs, returned to the main lobby, turned several corridors and climbed one smaller staircase, Hermione was nearly bubbling over with curiosity. Through the whole trek, Harry did not utter a single word, ignoring everything Hermione was saying to him. He just kept walking slowly, taking a few breaks every now and then to catch his breath.

Finally, they came to a stop in front a pair of grand doors, which soared two stories high and covered in intricate and colorful designs of fantastical beasts. Hermione’s eyes widened as she took stock of how majestic this door was compared to the rest. Even the main door to the castle was not as elaborate as the one before her. She found it odd though, Hermione mused, how even after exploring the castle in her free time; she never saw the entrance to that small staircase.

Curious, that.

But before she was able to think more on the issue, Harry pushed the doors open. "There are a couple things here you can start with."

Hermione gasped.

For before her was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her eyes darted everywhere as Hermione slowly made her way inside, absorbing everything in sight. Shelves upon shelves of books as far as the eye can see, reaching all the way up to a high ceiling. Her knees shook as she made her way inside, taking it all in. From floor to ceiling, every shelf was lined with various tomes of different shades and sizes.

Even in London, she had never seen such a massive collection of books in one place.

She looked around, seeing a multitude of cushions and chairs scattered across the massive room. A fireplace was alit, cushions scattered nearby. It looked like the perfect place to sit on a cold winter day.

She felt faint; head overcome by a startling wave of dizziness. This must be a dream, it had to be. For even in her wildest dreams, she never would have imagined standing in such a place.

Before she was able to do anything, she felt light, and the next thing she knew, the world went black.

* * *

Hermione slowly woke up, her eyes squinting as they gently opened. It was too bright. She wouldn't put it past Sirius to open the curtains to her room as a way to wake her up. Blinking slowly, she pushed herself off a solid surface. When… did she fall to the floor?

"Are you alright?" a deep voice said, filled with concern.

She looked curiously at Harry, who was sitting close to her on the floor, his furry face twisted in concern. What… "What happened?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Slowly standing up, she didn't look up as she continued, "I had the weirdest dream… I was standing in the middle of a massive library, filled with what must have been thousands of books." She laughed, her eyes remaining closed, "Must be my imagination…"

Harry coughed, "I… think you should open your eyes."

And so she did.

She blinked.

And blinked again.

"That… wasn't a dream?" Hermione said in awe whilst a cup of water was gently passed to her hand. "I…"

"Please take a deep breath," Harry pleaded, his voice wrought with concern, "I do not want you to faint on me again. Once was enough."

Hermione absently nodded as her eyes continued to roam the area while sipping the glass of water. "How many books are there…? There must be more than a thousand…."

Harry hummed, a clawed hand scratching the back of his neck, "There is definitely more than a thousand. The last time I bothered to check, there must be a little more than… half a million?"

"And you read them all?" she asked in disbelief as she looked to the shelves at the very top of the room.

"Not all of them," he replied, "Some are in Greek."

Hermione imagined she looked like a fish gaping in water with how her mouth dropped open. She twirled in place laughing all the while. To dive into a new book… Her fingers twitched at the opportunity. Turning to face Harry, Hermione smiled up at him. "This is the most beautiful place I have ever been in," she said, knowing that her statement did not do it any justice.

Green eyes blinked as they curiously looked around, "I suppose it is?" he said thoughtfully as though noticing this for the first time. Seeing the awed look on her face as she walked to the center of the room, a trickle of warmth spread through his core. He… does not know what to do. Suddenly, he remembered a piece of advice from long ago and steeled himself.

He may have once found refuge among these books… Amongst those shelves. But that time had passed. It… would be fair, to pass that refuge on to the woman in front of him.

"Well then… It is yours. You can be the master here." And with these words a tingle went through Hermione's spine. Hermione's eyes widened as she turned around, only to see him walk slowly to the door.

"Are you serious?"

Harry let out a deep chuckle, "No, I am Harry."

And without another word, he left the room. Hermione remained where she was, shaking her head as he gently closed the door behind him.

What just happened?


	21. Chapter XX

As the days and weeks passed, Hermione found more and more reasons to ask that same question. But instead of wondering what _had _happened, instead it is now, what _was _happening? Because there was no use denying it… something had changed between Hermione and Harry.

She cannot exactly tell when it happened, or what _it _even is. Hermione sighed as she stared out her window. Watching some frozen leaves flutter to the ground, she cannot help but want to identify when this… _something _changed between them.

It may have started when Harry rescued her from the woods; Hermione mused, when he protected her from the horde of Acromantula and when she, in turn, saved _him. _She still flinches whenever she chanced a glimpse of the scars on Harry's back and shoulders, knowing that they were there because of _her. _She knew he felt her guilt about what happened, but whenever she tried to apologize about it, he brushed her away. It was maddening to think that he does not really care about the heinous scars on his person, that are there on _her _expense, but that is the truth. For no matter how many times she apologized for that… he says that it was never her fault, but rather _his_ for placing her in that situation in the first place.

Hermione shook her head. Maybe it was… when he saved her again in the potions’ lab? It was similar to the incident in the woods, probably, but one thing is for sure. After that little incident, the hostile tension between the two of them practically evaporated. She smiled as she recalled the easy manner which they bantered with each other. Something did happen then, sure, but… it wasn't the only incident where she felt something shift between them.

Hermione closed her eyes. Or maybe… it was the time when he showed her the castle’s library, filled with thousands of books. He saw her reaction to the countless books stuffed in the hundreds of shelves. She does not know what was running through his mind when he did it at the time, and now she wished she knew what it was. For instead of just granting her access to the collection, he made her in _charge _of the library. Her! He practically told her that the books in the library are now hers, and she can do anything she wants. Even now, weeks after the fact and after spending countless hours between those shelves, reading books and tomes she _dreamed _of getting her hands on… She just doesn't… 

Hermione sighed contently.

She does not know, she seriously does not know; and for all she knew, it did not matter. There is one thing she definitely could not deny – there is a spark, a Merlin forsaken _spark _between them, that wasn't there before. Something that made the castle feel less than a prison and more like… a haven.

And the beast she saw initially; the one who was mean, coarse and unrefined… became something more… something that she cannot still define.

Hermione stretched, hearing her back crack. She had been sitting on that windowsill for a very long time. Walking towards the vanity, and making sure that she was presentable, Hermione smiled at her reflection, pleased to see what she saw. Since that disastrous first attempt of designing a dress, Mrs. Weasley had sat down with Lavender, talking to her about what she liked and didn’t like. It took some time, but once the cursed dresser understood Hermione’s tastes, she designed dozens of dresses and clothes just for her. Everything that was made, fit perfectly with Hermione's sensibilities. Simple cuts and designs, sure, but they complimented Hermione well.

Removing her nightgown – for Lavender did not do things by halves – she chose an off-white dress with a floral design; a simple rose pattern on the hem of the dress. Turning this and that, satisfied with her reflection, she smiled and softly thanked Lavender as she left the room; even though she was fast asleep. 

Hermione hummed as she made her way down the familiar flight of stairs, humming a random tune along the way, she greeted a few members of the staff who paused to greet her. Waving in turn she continued along the corridors, mind wandering once more.

She remembered the early days when she had to sneak into the kitchens to get her meals. Doing that all in the hope of avoiding Harry and his mean streaks. Instead, she and Harry now shared the dining space – on opposite ends of the table of course. It took time for them to get used to that change, but after a few days of awkward and tension-filled silence, Harry came one day to the dining room, carrying a couple of books for her to read. Since then, they would have a book and read in companionable silence.

Slowly but surely, they became accustomed to each other's presence, and in time, started to talk about the books they were reading. It wasn't all the time, sure, but whenever they did talk it was always meaningful in some manner. Sometimes they talked about magical theory and their various applications. Sometimes they opened potions books, and discussed how certain recipes could be amended to bring about a greater effect. Heck, sometimes they debated over the treatment of certain magical creatures and whether they should be given more rights or less. It was infuriating, especially that last one sure, but it was fun. It was freeing and invigorating.

For as long as she remembered, Hermione always longed for someone to understand her. To appreciate her differences rather than her… eccentricities. Back in the village, she felt belittled and cast away, never accepted by anyone around. But with Harry… For the first time in her life, she felt that connection, that understanding… And that made her appreciate him even more.

Finally leaving the walls of the castle, Hermione walked through the courtyard, admiring the freshly trimmed terrain. Taking a deep breath, she truly enjoyed the crisp air entering her lungs and the wind tussling her hair. The weather in the castle is random as far as she could tell. One day it could be bright, sunny and warm, while the next would be snowy, cold, and windy.

When the weather permits, Hermione would drag Harry outside during the warmer days, having a picnic and enjoying their time together, sometimes even letting Buckbeak loose on the lands. Other days, when it snowed, the wintery side prevailing, she would wear her thick clothes and enjoy her time outside. She would start snowball fights against the rest of the staff, more often than not having her and Harry faced against the dozens of staff members. Those fights tend to be long and brutal, but by the end of the day, when she sits beside Harry on the cushions beside the fireplace, sipping a large glass of hot chocolate, it made everything worthwhile.

Sometimes, she even managed to drag Harry to the greenhouse, making him help her tend to the plants there. Most of the plants have overgrown, and with a good portion of them being magical, she needed help in fighting the more resistant ones. It was a war against nature, but slowly and surely, they prevailed. Many hours were spent within that space, cutting, trimming and fighting aggressive plants.

Hermione smiled as she twirled in place, brown curls flowing in the breeze. With each moment and adventure, they shared, Hermione grew more and more comfortable around Harry. It took effort, sure, and sometimes they did argue, but the more time they spent with each other, the more she started to like the man masked beneath the beast. In fact, Hermione realized during lunch one afternoon, that she no longer saw those dark parts of him anymore. She saw the kindness in his eyes. She heard the intelligence in his tone – though he may be adamant to not acknowledge that. And she saw the love and pride whenever he stared across his lands.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps approaching her, Hermione seized her dance and turned around, only to find the object of her musings approach her. She was left speechless as she watched him approach her, his forest green eyes brightening when he spotted her.

"Good morning Harry!"

"Morning," he said, holding a book for her. "I thought you'd like to read this."

Hermione took the book off Harry's hand. Seeing how worn and old the cover was, she flipped it over, curious to know what the title was. "This is…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say. For in her hands is a book she only saw references of in a multitude of books, and even then… There were no copies available. It was such an old book, with limited prints, that she completely disregarded the possibility of touching its pages…

"_Mysterium et Magicae_… Harry, this…"

"Is something I want you to have." Harry continued, his long tail swishing behind him, "You enjoy reading magical theory and books on spell construction, so I thought- I mean-" he clarified sputtering. Harry turned his head away from her. "It just makes sense…"

Hermione smiled as Harry trailed off, staring down. It was endearing to see him like this, so bashful despite his scary appearance and large frame.

"… Thank you." She looked at him, her smile softening. For a moment, the pair just stood there in somewhat awkward silence. Despite all the time they had been spending together, this felt different; more intimate. Maybe it was because Harry noticed something small about her and decided to indulge her interests. Maybe it was just a shift in the air.

Whatever it was, the reason did not matter. Hermione felt a strong urge to say something she never had the chance to before. "… I never thanked you for saving my life," she finally said softly.

"I never thanked you for not leaving me to die," he responded without hesitation, as though he too had been waiting to say these words for a long time. "You kept apologizing to me… and that wasn't how I imagined saying them to you." Her throw a lopsided grin at her, "Took you long enough."

The air crackled between them as they stood, green eyes locked with amber. Their words lingering in the air. Just before Hermione was sure the atmosphere couldn't get any tenser, they heard shouts followed by laughter coming from the inside of the castle. The staff seemed to be having fun, what with the shouts and laughter coming from the castle.

The moment broken, Hermione and Harry cannot help but smile. Her eyes softened as she faced the direction of the sounds, "They sure know how to have a good time…" She glanced at Harry, who seemed to have also faced the direction of the sounds, "why don't you join them?"

Harry's eyes hardened, and he shook his massive head. "Have you seen me? When I enter a room, laughter dies. They are so jovial and fun when together, but the moment I am around, they all become serious and cold." He looked down, a melancholic smile on his face, "It is funny, isn't it? No matter where I go, no matter what I do… no one will ever accept me as I am. As a kid, I was never good enough, and as an adult I was also never good enough…" He chuckled softly, "So I thought, since everyone loves to look down at me, why should I care about what they think of my actions?" He laughed then; a cold sound tinged with such sadness that it clenched at Hermione's heart. "It is funny… In the end, because of me, everyone became cursed, trapped here due to my own actions. I guess… that is karma for you." 

Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it. That may be true… But he was getting it all wrong. From what she had seen… What she had heard… Everyone here loves him. Even at his worst, they all cared for him. Whenever Hermione talks to Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Remus, and Marlene… They all light up, excited to tell her stories of Harry's childhood, the good and the bad, the funny and the sad… But in a manner like a parent, telling stories about their precious child. Doesn't he know that?

Can't he see how much he changed?

"Did you try to talk to them recently?" Hermione lightly asked. "Or, if you are too… scared to talk to them all at once, why not talk to one of them in private? Sirius perhaps. With how often he talks about you, I am sure that it will go smoothly. The way he talks about you. Just… try? Please?"

His green eyes clash with hers. For a moment the air stilled, and then… Harry hesitantly nodded. Hermione beamed, happy with this small success.

And then she frowned. For him to be so open with his feelings like that… It must have taken a whole lot of bravery to say everything that he did. She knew some of his past, mostly due to that one conversation she had with Sirius and Mrs. Weasley shortly after he had been brought in because of his injuries. He may not know that she knew, sure, but it felt unfair for her to know so much about his past when he barely knew about hers.

Taking a deep breath, she watched the castle grounds, focusing on the flurries gently landing on the frozen ground. She bit her lip. "The villagers say I am a funny girl, but I don’t think they mean it as a compliment," she started, purposefully looking ahead. "For as long as I can remember… People used to find me odd, how I am not like all of the other girls. While they were busy doing their hair and chasing after boys, I was more often than not, found with my head between a book."

Feeling the feathered ball on her chest start to warm, she clenched it in her fist, gathering her courage. "They always ridiculed me, laughed at me for being weird," Hermione shook her head. "For me, they were the weird ones. They were always satisfied with what they had, even though they have the capability to be so much more. At first, they tried to talk me out of it, all in an attempt to make me ditch the books and follow their lead."

Hermione shook her head, "I didn't though, and the more I refused their invitations, the colder they became. Until one day, I realized that I had no one to talk to." To her surprise, she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, "If it weren't for Luna and my Father… I am sure I would have gone mad." 

With that, the tears which she had kept at bay flowed down her face. Hermione quickly wiped them off. She had never admitted to anyone that the villagers’ comments hurt her feelings – not even to her father.

"I'm sorry…" Harry said his tone genuine. "Your village sounds terrible."

She snorted, "Almost as lonely as your castle."

Harry nodded, not offended by her statement. His eyes looked up at the structure before him, taking it in. The castle had always felt like a prison to him, and for a long time, he accepted it. He used to think it was normal for it to be like that. But with Hermione's presence, life returned to the castle. She showed him how lonely the castle had been. He paused as an idea came to mind, and then gave her a smile, "What do you say we run away?"

Hermione cocked her head surprised by the suggestion. That was the last thing she expected to come from Harry's mouth, with just cause. Sirius and Remus did say that everyone in the castle was tethered by the curse. No matter how much they longed to leave, it was something that they would never be able to do.

Intrigued by the suggestion, she nodded.


	22. Chapter XXI

Footsteps echoing across the hallway, Hermione cocked her head staring at Harry's back. When she agreed to Harry's suggestion, he had stood up and guided her back to the castle. And despite many questions she had running in her mind, she remained quiet as he led her through.

It only took a few more turns until it dawned on her. Harry had been leading her to the library. Her curiosity peaked as he led her down the now familiar hallway and up a flight of stairs to the beautiful safe haven of books.

His stride did not falter as he opened the doors and walked inside the library. Moving with purpose, he walked over to a simple desk that was tucked against one of the walls, hidden from sight behind a large shelf.

Pulling a key from his breast pocket, he unlocked one of the desk cabinets. Hermione felt a small wave of magic pass through her when he turned the key, her hair fluttering in response.

Desk cabinet now opened, Hermione peered over Harry's shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay inside it. Resting on a red velvet pillow lay the most beautiful leather-bound book she had ever seen; its gold-leaf cover glimmer faintly in the darkness of the cabinet despite being covered by a thick layer of dust. It was obviously an enchanted book; Hermione longed to reach out and touch it.

"The Enchantress gave this to me," he said as he removed the book from its place. He softly blew on it; the dust flying off the cover. He turned around, and upon seeing Hermione's wide-eyed look, added "another one of her little 'gifts'…"

Walking away from the desk, he moved back to the center of the room towards one of the empty tables. Softly placing the book on it, he slowly opened the book, the spine cracking slightly. Hermione gasped at what she saw, for there were no text on the pages, but instead, a uniquely detailed world atlas. There were no names of cities or borders – it just showed land and sea. But before her eyes, she can see ripples that move across the water, and could have sworn that the drawing of the land had sand particles, moving slowly on the page. It radiated with strong magic, and Hermione cannot wait to try to unravel the inner workings of this book.

Harry, seeing Hermione's facial expression, smiled slightly – his fang protruding slightly off the side of his face. "It is a book that truly allows you to escape," he answered the unspoken question.

Stepping forward, Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the map become even more animated. Waves lap against the coast, green trees sway in invisible wind… If she squinted, she could make out tiny dots moving across the surface of the waters – ships traveling across the oceans…

"It is beautiful…" Hermione breathed, her heart pounding inside her chest.

"It may look beautiful…" Harry said softly, "But you should not be deceived by its shine. The Enchantress was cruel to have gifted us this… This book can take you to any place you want…" he shook his head, "Yet, for those of us living in this castle that was something none of us could ever do. Everyone here longed to leave, but… To be made to leave in the state we are in, it is unfathomable." Snorting quietly, he continued, "The outside world had no place for a monster like me… But, it has one for you."

Before Hermione opened her mouth to deny that, Harry shot her a glance. To see the hurt she saw so long ago back in his eyes… she was frozen in place. Those eyes…

They… were resigned. As if he had given up…

Slowly, Harry reached over and grasped her hand, guiding Hermione to come closer to the book in question. Gently placing her hand over the pages, Hermione felt a tingle shoot up Hermione's hand. She shivered in place.

"Think of a place you have most wanted to see…" Harry whispered against her ear, her hand still entwined with his. "A place you have always wanted to go to… First, see it in your mind's eye. Feel it in your heart…" 

Hermione closed her eyes, and cleared her mind. She had read countless books and read up on various countries and places around the world that has always intrigued her… But she knew, within her heart that there was one place she wanted to visit more than anything else in the world. A place she only had faint recollections of… but nothing more. So engrossed in her recollections, she failed to see specks of golden dust leaving the page her hand touched, failed to see the light enveloping both Harry and herself…

It was only when she felt a tug behind her navel did she open her eyes, to see a swarm of golden dust surround her…

She opened her mouth—

And in the next second, the library was empty once more.

* * *

Unable to move her hand off the page, all Hermione could do was hold on for dear life as the world spun around her. Colors blurring in front of her eyes, her hair tussled by the constant spinning, all Hermione could do was pray for this to be over.

She should have expected this. Harry did say that the book could take her to any place she wanted, but she thought it was in a figurative sense, not literally. With how powerful the wards are, Hermione thought travel by Portkey was something that just wasn't possible. Apparating was something she attempted to do when she first arrived in the castle, and when that did not work, she discarded all forms of magical travel, thinking it all would fail.

Guess she was wrong about that…

The next think Hermione knew, she felt the spin start to slow down. She was not prepared to be thrown harshly to the ground. Groaning whilst opening her eyes, she managed to catch Harry land somewhat gracefully on the wooden floor.

She glared.

He grinned apologetically in turn, "One advantage of being cursed in this form – this sort of magical travel no longer disorients me."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she slowly stood up. Looking around, she was shocked to see where exactly they have landed. Imagining the location in her mind was one thing… but to actually be there after so long... Hermione took a deep shaky breath as her eyes took it all in.

They were no longer in the majestic library of Potter Castle. Instead, she found herself looking around the little dim room they were standing in. She had thought of this little flat for many years… But no matter how much she tried to remember it, the details always eluded her, slipping through her grasp.

Harry stood in front of the window, gazing outside. He can recognize this view… He had often walked on that same street whenever he had to go do business with the Goblins, or wanted to explore the Alley for some personal shopping.

"Where did you take us?" Harry asked.

"London…" Hermione said her whisper barely audible over the sound of the patrons downstairs.

"London? I have been here multiple times in the past," Harry exclaimed, turning back to stare out the window. "Where do you want me to take you? The London Library is a good place to start – there is a hidden entrance within the library, filled with almost a million magical tomes, putting my library to shame. Or maybe, you would like to visit-"

But Hermione was absorbed in her own thoughts, her eyes brimmed with tears, "It's so much smaller than I imagined…" she said after a moment, blinking back the tears.

They have been transported to Hermione's childhood home. It wasn't… really a home per se, but rather a tiny room in the Hog's Head. The room was filled with dust, clearly unused, but it was still familiar. This was the room she had lived with her father and mother for so many years. It looked abandoned. Countless little knickknacks and tools strewn around the room, caked with dust and a few books lining the shelves were the only reminders that the place had once been a home.

As Hermione walked forward, glancing at all of these little details, the sadness that she felt earlier returned with a vengeance. When she touched the book, she thought she was going to 'see' her home as it once was, full of happiness and life. But… she had instead been taken to see her home as what it currently is, all dusty and forgotten; crumbling from lack of care. No one seemed to have come to this room for years – not since Richard and Hermione left London behind.

Beside her, Harry kept silent, letting Hermione have her moment. He stood by the window, his eyes following Hermione as she made her way through the whole room. He may not want to intrude on such a private moment, but he will not turn away when she is in such a vulnerable state. She had remained beside him at his worst; it is only fair to do the same in kind. But as she picked up a tiny children's book off the shelf, her fingers brushing the thick dust off its cover, he finally spoke, "What happened to your mother?" he asked softly.

"That is the one story Father could never bring himself to tell," Hermione said, clutching the book against her chest. "I remember that we were living here – Mother, Father, and I. One day, while I was sitting here, reading my favorite book, my Father barged into the room and grabbed me, just as an owl flew into the room, carrying a package. He pulled me out of the room, placed me on the first carriage, and the next thing I knew, we were making our way out of London. I never knew what happened to my Mother, and no matter how much I asked Father… He never told me what happened."

As Hermione spoke, Harry's eyes traveled to the corner of the room. He moved to pick up an old roll of newspaper, which hasn't been opened; covered in dust. Gingerly opening it – an old edition of the Daily Prophet – his expression pained, flinching slightly as he read the header.

Hermione, seeing the expression on Harry's face, followed his gaze. Making her way towards him, she gently extracted the paper from his shaky hand, wondering what caused him to have such an adverse reaction. Yet… the moment she saw the title, she knew, tears brimming in her eyes. The main article was a recount of a deadly Death Eater attack in the open market of Diagon Alley. It was a bland retelling of the event in question, alongside a list of the deceased.

Her mother's name was on that list.

All these years… and she had finally learned the cold hard truth. She once thought that her mother must have left her father and her, disappearing in the cold of the night, but now… she knew otherwise. How did he endure such a thing? She knew she had an uncanny resemblance to her mother, but to constantly have a physical reminder of his wife beside him all the time… she cannot imagine her father’s pain.

Her knuckles turned white as she held the children's book in her hand.

"I am… am sorry for your loss…" Harry said in a voice laced with sadness and sympathy.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione was jolted out of her downward spiral by the sound of Harry's deep voice. She turned to face him. Her amber eyes clashed with his. She could clearly see the concern etched in his green orbs. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Hermione cast one last look around the room.

She had seen enough.

Placing the children's book in her apron, she looked around one last time. Once upon a time, this place used to be filled with light and laughter. But now… those happy times had long since passed.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Harry, her lips tilted slightly upwards.

"I think I have seen enough." She reached out and took Harry's hand with hers, comforted by the warmth radiating from his person, "Can you take us back home?" she said, "To the castle?"

Harry nodded, lightly squeezing her hand. Feeling a grateful squeeze in return, he ignored how that made him feel and instead, pulled their joined hands over the enchanted book, which had been on the dusty table the whole time.

Closing his eyes, and making sure that Hermione's hand is still entwined with his, he closed his eyes… and pictured home.


	23. Chapter XXII

Draco was getting restless. For the past two weeks, he was doing what he normally did – hunt, subtle yet aloof flirting with the local girls, and parade around town with his wingman, Weasley… It had been a shock when he came back from his 'trip' to the forest Richard-less, with no Hermione in toe. When he told the villagers what had happened, distraught and looking less for wear, everyone mourned for Richard’s passing, and life moved on.

He had spent countless hours waiting for Hermione to show up in the village, but after the first day, he decided to accept that maybe some part of Richard’s long tale held a small portion of truth. Still, with most of Richard’s body probably ravaged by wild animals by now, all he had to do was wait for Hermione to return.

Yes, he thought as he made his way towards the tavern, he will wait patiently for her arrival. He'll settle himself with his daily dose of adoration and ale for now. But once Hermione comes back from wherever she had run off to, he will have Ron inform her of her father's 'tragic' passing, and then she will jump into his arms, tearfully crying all over his chest. Then Hermione would gladly accept his proposal, glad to have some semblance of security in her life.

He did warn her that this might happen, after all.

_Now… _Draco frowned as he glanced at his red-headed friend,_ If only Ron would just stop talking already…_

"You know…" Ron said, staring at the dark sky. Strom clouds have started to form overhead, "I seriously feel sorry for anyone who is unlucky enough to still be outside. The storm is coming our way, and it seems it is going to hit strong."

Draco's eyebrow twitched. He could practically predict what Ron is going to say now. After all, he hasn't deviated from the same topic for a while now.

"I mean…" Ron continued, not noticing Draco's slowly disorienting state, "… At least we're not tied to a tree somewhere in the middle of nowhere." Ron finally glanced at his friend. Hopefully he will be able to convince him now, "You know, it is not too late. We can still go and get him—"

Draco froze; his eyes noticeably darkened. "Look _Ronald," he_ sneered, throwing a cold look at Ron, "I have tolerated you for the past two weeks, constantly blabbering about that crazy old fool. There is no way he could possibly still be alive after being tied up in the middle of that Merlin forsaken forest for the better part of _two weeks_. So…" 

"Please, do yourself a favor…" he advanced at Ron, "And stop trying to make me change my mind. There is no _possible _way that the old fool could possibly be alive. So, do me a favor and _stop talking. _Honestly," he scoffed turning away from Ron, "I am starting to think you might have started to get a… _change of heart_?"

Ron paled and clenched his shaking fists. Swallowing the bile that rose up his throat, his eyes shifted away from the imposing figure before him. "N-no Draco," he said. "Never. I am always going to be by your side. Y-you can count on me."

Draco nodded and glanced at Ron from the corner of his eyes. "Right. Right…" he said, a smile slowly creeping up his face. "I know I can always count on you. Now," he grinned. His cold and hard demeanor melted right before Ron's eyes, giving way to his usual persona. "You haven't been acting like yourself lately. Is there something wrong?" Draco cheerfully said, throwing an arm around Ron's shoulders.

Ron flinched. He thanked the high heavens that Draco did not figure out the reason for his unease. "Nothing much. I have just… Started to feel lonely again?"

"Lonely?" Draco faux gasped, "With me around! Pray tell, why didn't you tell me?"

"W-well… I do not want to bother you. That’s all…"

Draco shook his head, pushing his hair off his eyes. "Ron," he said making sure that he got his friend’s complete attention. "I will always be there for you. If you had a problem, you should know that you can count on me." Draco quirked his eyebrow, "So you've finally succumbed... Don't worry; I am sure that could be remedied rather quickly. I know just the girl. She will blow you away, and seeing how it has been a while since your bed had been warmed, she is the perfect candidate to get you up to speed." Leaning forward to whisper in Ron's ears, he lowered his voice, "Now, Her name is —"

What was her name? Ron will never know. For Draco's voice trailed off as he opened the door to the tavern, only to gasp when his eyes first revealed a much alive Richard.

Draco blinked, his eyes flickering as he saw the _very person who he had left for dead. _

No, he thought. This is impossible; he took all of the precautions necessary to ensure that the man will never make it out of the forest alive. He had stunned the man, cast a powerful _Incarcerous_ to secure him to the tree he kept raving about and - just to make sure there was no chance for him to survive - snapped his wand and threw it by his feet just out of reach. So for him to still be alive, for him to still breathe… _Something must have happened—_

"Why hello there _Malfoy, _long time no see," Richard said as he calmly sipped a hot beverage. "Why do you look shocked? My, pardon me, but I think you need to sit. I'd say you've just seen a ghost by how pale you’ve just turned."

Draco slowly made his way inside, the door closing with a loud bang. If it weren’t for the many faces staring his way, he would have thought that the tavern was empty by how silent it was. Usually, when he entered a room, the villagers tend to enthusiastically greet him with a joyous cheer. Not this time though; their glares were telling enough. If he would hazard a guess, he'd say that Richard had told everyone present all that had happened.

And that… does not bode well. Not at all. He will need to do something to remedy this travesty, and quickly.

He failed to see the corner of Ron's mouth twitch upward.

"Draco Malfoy," Mr. Weasley quickly glanced at his youngest son, a guarded look in his eyes. "We have heard a rather interesting tale. If you may please enlighten us," he said, his voice serious, "did you try to kill Richard?"

Draco stared back, his face stoic in the face of that question. He knew there were a few ways he could respond. He could try to obliviate everyone here and drag Richard back to the forest, personally guiding Richard’s soul to the afterlife; but there was a great chance for them to retaliate badly to that. He could try to run, but that was the last thing he wanted to do; he is a man, not a coward. Or… he could deny the accusation…

Plastering a warm smile on his face, Draco walked quickly to Richard, his face tinged with relief and worry. "Oh, Mr. Granger!" Draco said; his voice tangible with feigned relief, "Oh how much I have missed you! You have been away for so long I have started to worry." He clasped his hand over his shoulder, squeezing it tightly, "Where were you, old bean? I have spent a whole week trying to find you."

As his words bounced around the room, the villagers shuffled, shooting looks amongst themselves. They do not know whom to believe.

Richard had enough of this façade. He threw Draco's hand off his shoulder and backed away. "Oh, really Draco; this is how you are going to play with this?" Richard said in disbelief. His eyes hardened as he glared at Draco, "Do you want me to refresh your mind as to what you did? You tried to kill me! You knocked me out, tied me to a tree, and left me to die!"

Draco put his hand to his chest as though Richard’s words had hurt him. "Mr. Granger, what are you talking about? You know I would never do such a thing to anyone." He tilted his head, looking inquisitively at the man before him, "It is one thing to rave about your delusions, but it is another to accuse me of attempted murder."

"Delusions?" Richard spat, his grey hair sparkling slightly. "No Draco, everything I have said so far, aren't _delusions _formed by my _frail and grieved mind_. They are real. The castle I said? Is real. The beast I saw? Also, real." By now, Richard's hair was standing from his emotional state. "And everything I said about your attempt of _murdering _me? You know the answer to that. You have done everything in your power to kill me that night, and you know it."

"Right…" Draco said condescendingly. "We should totally believe you that there is a beast with a castle nearby that somehow none of us have ever seen…" he quirked his eyebrow at the old man, "am I correct?"

Richard fidgeted in his place. It does _sound _farfetched to the casual listener, but everything he said is true. Looking around the room, he could tell that everyone around him was staring, waiting for his answer. "Well… Yes."

Draco shook his head and looked around the room. "My friends? Did you hear what this man just said?" he laughed and was pleased to hear many of the other patrons chuckle with him. "Mr. Granger. Humor me for a bit, do you have any… evidence of what you are saying?"

"Ask Luna!" he replied, frantically trying to keep the room with him. "She rescued me!"

Draco's eyes flashed, too fast for anyone to catch the look that passed through it in that split second. Richard, though, was the only one who caught it. "Luna, you say? ‘Loony’ Luna Lovegood?" Draco tauntingly said as he forced a laugh to pass his lips. He suddenly stopped, shaking his head. "Don't make me laugh. Do you _really _want us to believe that it was _Luna _that rescued you?" he snorted, "She doesn't even have a _wand_."

"But she did! She _did _rescue me after _you _left me for dead!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You really want to hang your accusations on the testimony of a filthy beggar woman?"

Richard hesitated and looked around. Seeing most of the patrons clearly shifting their side from his to Draco's, he needed to change tactics. Glancing at the many faces, he spotted a red-head standing on the outskirts of the crowd.

That was right; Richard thought as he jerkily made his way to the figure, there was another person that night. A person who had watched Draco's carefully placed façade thrown away. A person who had witnessed Draco's attempt on his life. 

"Ronald Weasley!" he cried, grasping the shoulders of Draco's ever-present companion. He pulled him to the center of the room, where everyone's eyes were trained on him once more. "He was there! He saw everything!"

"M-me?" Ron gulped, his eyes nervously shifting as everyone’s attention centered on him. Sweat started to form as he felt everyone's eyes on him.

"Of course, my friend of course…" Draco sighed, as he walked over to his red-headed friend. "Don't take my word for it." Putting his arm around Ron's, he pulled him close, keeping his hand on the redhead’s shoulder. He smiled at his friend. To everyone else, it may look sincere, but Ron sees it otherwise. He can clearly see the warning in Draco's gaze as he continued to speak. "Did you and I, when searching for the wayward Ms. Granger, find any beasts or haunted castles?"

Ron's head quickly swung back and forth. He can feel Draco's grip tightening on his shoulder. It was clear what the answer he was supposed to say.

He now understood that his friend was not right in the head. He knew it from the brief flashes of darkness which sometimes show in his stormy grey eyes. However, he deliberately ignored it against his own instinct. In the far recesses of his mind, he knew that something like this would eventually happen, that at some point, that pool of darkness will reach a tipping point. He tried desperately to cull his friend’s urge, but it seemed to be of no avail. When he witnessed what Draco did to Mr. Granger after he knocked him unconscious… He really wished he was able to do something more for the old man. He prayed for a sign that will guide him on what to do.

So, when he saw a golden spectral form look him in the eyes and mended Richard's wand, he knew what to do. From behind Draco's back and without his knowledge, he placed a simple scent and presence ward around the old man after he had been tied to the creepy tree. A ward that would last until the effects of the _Stupefy_ spell wore off. It will be enough to give the man a chance to escape his binds and try to reach the exit before any creature decided to have him for dinner. He had even managed to pass Mr. Granger’s wand back to his prone form when Draco wasn't looking.

In the corner of his eyes, he once again saw a glimpse of that same spectral he saw that night, looking directly at him. Time stopped. No one seemed to see her, this golden figure that was standing right in front of everyone. A long moment passed… and she smiled. She nodded, her eyes glowing even more. 

'_Do what you must…"_

The moment after she said that, in an eerily familiar airy voice, the spectral disappeared in a golden cloud of stardust.

A small tendril of hope curled around his heart.

He knew what he must do.

Time resumed; not a moment had passed since Draco asked the question. His heart steeled, "No, we never saw a castle or any beasts in the many days we spent searching the forest."

Draco's lips twitched upwards. "And, did I," Draco said, a dark satisfaction coiled within his heart, "your oldest and most loyal companion, try to kill the father of the only woman I've ever loved?"

Ron apologized profusely to Richard in his heart. He knew this was unfair, and knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he had to do what he must. He had a feeling that after tonight, everything will change. And for that to happen… He needs to continue this charade.

"No," Ron said, avoiding looking at Richard’s eyes, "It is preposterous. Draco would never do that."

That was the provincial nail in the coffin. When Ron uttered that one sentence, Draco knew he had become victorious. He watched with a sick sort of glee as Richard’s face fell. What a poor man… He thought he would be able to make everyone listen to him, but it was a futile fight. Did he really expect that he would be able to tarnish his reputation; a reputation that he spent his entire life cultivating, with just a few words?

Draco sighed as he approached the defeated man. "Mr. Granger… It pains me to say this but I think you have become a danger to yourself and others. I have… no clue what sort of malady you have encountered in your travels. However, seeing how delirious you have become, I cannot in my right mind, allow you to be near Hermione when you are in… such a state." He walked over and put a large hand on Richard's shoulder, ignoring the flinch from his touch.

"Everything will be fine. You will be in a better place." Richard shivered, for while his words were nice, his tone remains as cold as ice.


	24. Chapter XXIII

Harry sighed as he glanced outside the window in the opulent bathroom he is in. Sitting in a tub, the water having turned cold a while ago, his eyes gazed at the moon above, thoughts flowing through his mind. When he woke up today and did his customary check on the rose, he was shocked to see that there were only a handful of petals on the seam, the stalk visibly wilted and dry.

Without him noticing, so much time had passed since the Enchantress had placed that curse. He remembers a time when he used to gaze at the rose, thinking that with the hundreds of petals on its seam, that there was enough time for him to break the curse. Enough time for him to learn how to love. But as time passed, and he remained a beast, he fell into anguish and despair, accepting that he would always remain a hideous furry monster. 

That he will truly become the monster that he was thought to have become.

The more time passed, the further he fell into despair and self-loathing. He knew that this was his fault, and knew that if it wasn't for him – if it weren't for his flaws – none of this would have happened. So he distanced himself from his staff and the people who swore to always be beside him, knowing in the recesses of his heart that they all blame him for being in this cursed state.

It is only a matter of time now. With only a handful of roses left on the seam, he estimates that only a handful of days remain for him to have the chance to break the curse.

"Oh Harry… Come out…" a familiar voice called out from beyond the door, startling Harry out of his recollections. "You know, I know you want to make sure that everything is perfect for tonight, but does that _really _mean you have to stay in the bath for a little more than two hours? C'mon now! You need to start preparing yourself!"

Harry sighed as he stood up, a corpus amount of water dripped onto the tiled floor. Vigorously shaking his body, a torrent of water splashed the surface of the room. He may have spent a couple of hours in the bath, but it was something that had to be done. His body was literally covered in fur. Do they not know how difficult it was to clean it all? Grumbling to himself, he picked a small towel and started to polish the horns on his head.

"Harry…"

With a small growl, he turned to the direction of the sound, glaring at the door. "I am coming okay?" he called speeding up his actions, "Just give me a second."

"You said that last time!"

"Well, I mean it now!"

"Fine!" the voice retorted. "But if you are not out within the next ten minutes, I will come in and throw flour all over your body. Then we will see how long it takes for you to clean that off!"

Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. As he made his way out of the bathroom, he grimaced as he caught his reflection in the mirror.

"Finally!" Sirius said, hopping on a… bag of flour? Harry blinked as he stared at the candelabrum, shocked to know that he really was apparently prepared to pour flour on him. "Took you long enough." Sirius glanced at the bag he was standing on and sighed, "Guess I no longer have any use of it. Fred! George! You win the bet!" he called out, "As promised, you can do anything you want with the flour so long as it is for a good cause!"

"Yes!"

"Finally, we broke the losing streak!"

The two teacups skedaddled from the corridor and scraped the floor in their hurry to reach Sirius – and the bag of flour. They both laughed at Sirius' resigned face as he made a small tear on the bag. The flour started to levitate out of the bag and went inside the rim of the teacups, disappearing within their depths. Unlike the other Cursed – with the exception of their mother – they were given the ability to create simple brews within their frames, as well as store a variety of different beverages at the same time. It had been useful whenever they got bored, and when their mother decided to hide all of their favorite pranking materials. So for them to manage to win the elusive flour… They will horde this until they figure out a use for it.

With a grin, they both watched Sirius burn the now empty flour bag with his flames. Knowing that Mrs. Weasley is going to come at any time, the last thing he needed was for her to see any evidence of his 'betrayal'.

"Alright boys you know what to do. Right?" Sirius said in a faux commanding voice.

"Yes sir!"

"Well then soldiers," Sirius winked, "you are free to leave."

With a cheer, they both hopped away whilst laughing manically, leaving the room just as Mrs. Weasley decided to enter it. She looked curiously at her two sons as they hopped away to the distance. "If it weren’t for the fact that I know it is impossible, I would have thought they were drunk or on a sugar rush…" she shook her head and looked up. Seeing how Harry was shaking whilst covering his mouth, she widened her eyes and hopped closer. "Harry dear! Are you alright? Do you want me to go grab an anti-nausea potion? You look like you are about to throw up!"

"Oh come off it Molly! He is fine. He just has a bit of a strong case of nerves."

Mrs. Weasley quirked an eyebrow, "Nervous? What for? Does it have something to do with the ballroom? Everyone seems to be in a hurry, cleaning and polishing the floor… Dusting the chandeliers… And repairing some of the columns."

Sirius gasped, placing a candle on his chest, "Molly, you haven't heard? Our resident furball here has finally plucked the courage to do the _thing. _You know…"

"The _thing…_?" Mrs. Weasley repeated, trailing off. They have given Harry many ideas and plans to help smooth the relationship between the girl and himself. But after the first few weeks, they felt there was no need to give anymore advice. Harry at some point started to initiate their regular outings, that there was no need for them to interfere.

"You know," Sirius whispered, "The thing we have all agreed would make the perfect..."

Mrs. Weasley gasped, as she suddenly remembered. There was only one idea that everyone among the staff thought would be the most appropriate and romantic setting for Hermione and Harry to warm up to each other. They have discarded it in the beginning and never brought it up again, what with Harry's general attitude and Hermione's unique headstrong demeanor at the time. There never seemed to be the right time for them to suggest it.

But, with how feverant the staff had been running amok, working tirelessly to bring the ballroom back to pristine condition, it only means one thing.

She turned around and tried to find her target, but to no avail. But as she turned a critical eye around the room, she spotted a furry black tail, swishing from behind a column. "Harry! I see you. Come out."

With a disgruntled snort, said furry person left his hiding spot. She shook her frame as she saw the state he is in; fur standing unkemptly all over his body. He looked adorable with that pout on his face, and looking like an overgrown pygmy puff. Mrs. Weasley held her breath; it would be rude to laugh.

"Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said softly, ignoring the snickers that were coming from Sirius's direction, "Is it true? Have you really…"

Harry sighed as he tried to comb his fur down, whilst trying his best to ignore said snickers. "I did."

Mrs. Weasley squealed as she hopped in place, "Oh my boy, please tell me how you asked her!

Sighing, he walked over to the vanity and sat down. He glanced at the state of his fur and grimaced. Trying one last attempt, he started talking, "Well… I saw her passing by the ballroom," he started, his voice tinged with nervousness, "and I went over to talk to her. She asked about what happened there and why do I always avoid it… and I told her that… it was the place where we all got cursed." He took a deep breath of air, his heart constricting in his chest. "She said that it was such a shame that such a beautiful place had been the source of deep anguish and pain. So… I opened my mouth and was about to ask her something – I have no idea what I was going to say – but then she asked if she could dance with me in the ballroom."

Harry shook his head, still slightly shocked by the turn of events, "Hermione said that she always wanted to go to a dance, but with how everyone treated her, they never bothered to send an invitation whenever there was one organized." He growled. Thinking about all of those people who have snubbed Hermione, always left a bitter taste in his mouth. And the fact that the girls who have snubbed and belittled Hermione the most, were there on _that night_. That he had, at some point, danced and mingled with her tormentors... That he had at one point, thought they were beautiful.

He knew better now.

"I told her that it wasn't true, that no matter what happens, she is beautiful. That everyone around her were so entranced by the frivolous and shallow appearances that they never bothered to look beneath the surface. That… the real diamond was her." Harry sighed, as he closed his eyes, remembering Hermione's flushed cheeks when he said that. "A few moments later, I asked her if she would dance with me in the ballroom for the evening. I just wanted to show her how beautiful she really was…"

Harry groaned as he hit his head against the corner of the table. "Oh, who am I kidding…? This is too good to be true. She will never love me…"

"Love you?" Sirius parroted hopping on the vanity. He grabbed a cloth and started to dry his horns, careful not to put too much pressure on the appendages. "What isn't there to love? From what I can tell, Hermione relaxes every time she’s around you. She goes out of her way to spend time with you. She wouldn't do that it if she did not at the very least, _like_ you…"

Harry snorted, his voice muffled by the corpus amount of fur surrounding his head. Like him? Sure. But there was no way Hermione would love him. He may be tolerable, but even he knew that he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around.

"… so don't be discouraged." Sirius continued, finally finished with polishing Harry's horns. "I'm telling you, she is the one."

"There is no _one_," Harry retorted, grabbing Sirius and placing him on a side table. He stood up, his imposing figure in full view to the candelabrum. "Look at me. She deserves so much more than… than a beast like me." Voice cracking at the end, he lowered his head, missing the soft looks Sirius and Mrs. Weasley shared among themselves.

The teapot and candelabrum knew what was going on. For no matter how much he would deny it, Harry had fallen for the girl. In the past, when they had to endure the countless dalliances he used to bring to the castle, they always wondered how Harry would be if he were to care for the person he was with. So, used to his dismissive reactions with other women, that they have given up on him settling down. Of him finding the love of his life. So, for him to be so obviously flustered and nervous about a woman… was just plain endearing.

Sirius slyly grinned. "Well… woo her with beautiful music and romantic candlelight…"

"Yes," Marlene piped in, flying into the room. She flew over to Sirius, landing gracefully within his arms, "and when the moment is just right… tell her how you feel."

Harry though cocked his head. His furry eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "But how will I know?"

Remus, who had until this point been purposefully silent and out of the conversation, cleared his throat. "In my experience," he said, voice slightly shaking, "you will feel slightly nauseous."

Sirius shot a look at Remus. He never knew his friend was in love. "Oh… Pray tell, old friend. Have you somehow forgotten to tell me of something?"

Remus gulped, slowly itching away from his friend. This was most probably the worst time for him to blurt that out. "Not now!" he hissed, shooting the candlestick a glare.

Sirius nodded, turning back to Harry, who was watching the little banter with a small smile. "The point is; you'll do fine. The problem has been that until now, she wasn't able to see you for who you really are."

Mrs. Weasley, who had been silent through all this, shook her frame, "No… that is not true. The problem was… she was always able to see the real you."

Suddenly the room became silent. The previously light atmosphere thickened with tension. No one knew what to say or what to do. Everyone turned to Harry, who they watched with wide eyes, as Mrs. Weasley went on.

"For years," she said, "we watched you grow from this innocent desperate boy into a cruel harsh man. We hoped and prayed that you will one day change your ways. That you will one day realize that you no longer need to keep that façade any longer. But the more time had passed, the more we realized that something needed to happen for you to be able to throw away that mask. And so we prayed, with all our hearts, for something to happen, for someone to come and take that mask off you by force." Mrs. Weasley sent him a melancholic smile. "And then the Enchantress came. With the curse, we hoped that this will be enough of an incentive for you to become a better man, for you to mature and become the man you truly were meant to be."

She glanced at the portrait of the couple, on the far wall. It was too far for her to be able to see their faces clearly, but she knew without a doubt, that they are smiling. "So much have changed in the past three months… Your parents would be proud of the man you have become."

Mrs. Weasley then smiled tenderly at Harry, whose eyes glistened more than usual. "Now, chin up and wipe those tears off your face. Tonight is the night, Harry dear. This will be your chance to tell the girl how you feel."

With that, the staff started to gather what they needed to help Harry get ready. In the hustle and bustle of everyone gathering supplies, no one noticed Harry slowly starting to smile. It wasn't those hideous attempts he first flashed when Hermione entered the castle.

It was a smile of a man who finally felt hope for the very first time in a long while.


	25. Chapter XXIV

Hermione sighed as she stood in her room, letting Lavender pimp and pamper her. Hearing the now familiar sound of the snipping and snapping sheaths, her mind wandered. She was lost in her thoughts, wondering what sort of illness could have caused such an adverse reaction in her. Whenever she thinks about Harry nowadays, she cannot help but blush, butterflies fluttering in her belly.

"Hermione… I know you are in there."

With that, the distracted girl blinked, staring curiously at the multitude of different ribbons floating around her head. She blinked and turned around, only to see the large dresser staring curiously at her. The large drapes fell slightly, creating an impression of a frown, "Is something wrong? Don't you like the design? I can change it. I—"

"No no," Hermione responded, waving her arms about. "I love the design you made for me. It is just…" she hesitated, fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve. "I don't know what is wrong with me."

"Wrong with you?" the dresser repeated slowly. "Hermione, are you ill? Do you want me to call the twins? What potion do you want?" Lavender sputtered, her voice trailing more and more into hysteria, "Is there—"

"No no, I don’t mean it like that." Hermione said, in a pacifying tone, "I am not sick or ill, the last time I checked. It is just…" hesitating, she averted her eyes. Her amber orbs never straying off the floor. "I don't know what is happening to me."

Lavender looked at Hermione inquisitively. That is true, something is different about her. Sure, she may look and act the same, but recently things seem to have changed.

"Hmm…" she said comparing some of the fabrics against Hermione's cheek, "describe to me how you are feeling. We'll figure out what is wrong with you in no time."

Gulping, the girl nodded, "Sometimes I feel nauseated, with my face flushed. My heart has been beating faster than usual. And sometimes… I feel faint." Hermione sighed. "I really want to know what is going wrong with me. Do you have any idea what I am laboring under?"

Lavender giggled, startling Hermione. Why would she laugh after describing the symptoms of her illness? "Are… You okay?"

"Yes yes, I am fine." She said, emitting a snort of triumph as she finally found the perfect color. "Um, can you humor me? Do these symptoms pop up all the time, or do they come only at specific times?"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrow, thinking hard. "It… only happens at specific times. When I am with-"

"-Harry, right?"

Blinking, she looked up at the dresser. How did she know that it only happens when Harry is around? "So you know what it wrong with me?"

Lavender shook her frame, her color changing from a light blue to a soft yellow, "There is nothing _wrong _per se, but rather something _right_." Taking a large roll of cloth, she started to cut the fabric into pieces. Pointing her sheath at Hermione, she cheerfully said, "Hermione, you have been infected with the love bug."

"L-love bug?" she sputtered, face turning red. "There is no such thing as a love bug… right?"

Lavender held in her laughter. Who would have known that the quiet and bookish Hermione would be so clueless? "That is the more modern way of saying it, but… You could say you have been hit by cupid's arrow."

"Cupids… Arrow?" Hermione's eyes widened, "But… Doesn't that mean that… that I…"

"It is exactly what I mean. Good job recognizing the reference there." Lavender giggled, "I was worried you won't understand it for a second."

Hermione was left dumbstruck. This… cannot be happening. She furrowed her eyebrows, does she love Harry? Ever since Harry and her returned from their trip to London, she had felt a serious shift in her relationship with Harry. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. And instead of leaving her alone to suffer through it, he took his time to make sure she was being well taken cared of. Their walks in the gardens were longer, they have been sitting in the dining room not just for the food, but mostly for the company. Even their conversations have become much more meaningful.

But… was that love?

Looking at the dresser, she remembered a conversation she had before with Lavender a long time ago. Something about a lover she was made to leave behind… "Lavender, can you tell me…? How did you know that you were in love?"

Lavender giggled, her drapes turning into a deep magenta color. "Ah…" she said, longing tinged in her tone, "How much I miss him…"

She turned towards the girl in front of her, identifying the eager look in her eyes. "When I was young, I was always made fun of – for being slow and naïve," she started. "I only had one friend who always stood beside me, chasing all of the bullies away."

The dresser started wistfully. "As I grew older, and as we young girls started to grow into our bodies, the bullies found another thing to hurt me by. Instead, they started to ridicule me for how… big I was. My body grew faster than everyone else's, and though it should be a point of pride… It instead became something everyone used to poke fun at me."

Lavender sighed, "One incident lead to the next, and the next thing I knew, women started to talk in hushed conversations whenever I am around. I was ignored; everyone 'forgot' to invite me to their gatherings, parties, and events. It was later that I learned that someone was spreading rumors around the village; telling everyone that I was a harlot." The dresser softly laughed, shaking her massive frame, "I was an idiot. For the friend who was very dear to me – the one who was always beside me all my life – turned out to be the one who had spread those terrible rumors."

"I was furious. For how could she do that? For what purpose?" Lavender focused her gaze on the girl in front of her, only now noticing her ashen face. "Don't look so stricken, it is all in the past." Using one of her arms as a ruler, she started to take Hermione's measurements. "Now, where was I…? Oh right..."

"Those were dark times." Lavender said nonchalantly, "I was snubbed, ridiculed, and propositioned a few times. I always wondered; why did she do that? Why did my friend try so hard to ruin my reputation; destroying the years of friendship we had between us? It turned out… That she liked a man. But he instead had his eyes on me, and was interested in me. My 'friend' though tried to seduce him, but when he did not budge, she changed tactics. She spread those lies to tarnish his opinion of me, all in the effort of tainting his image of me. For him to turn his focus and look at her instead."

Lavender laughed mirthlessly, "And it did work, but not in the way she wanted. He stopped pursuing me, sure, but in the next month, he got engaged to another girl. My former friend was devastated. For even when I wasn't in the picture, the man never looked at her the way she wanted. She tried to apologize to me, but of course, it was too late. The damage had already been done."

"It took a couple of years for those rumors to settle. The village women attempted to rekindle their 'friendship' with me; saying that everything that had happened was a misunderstanding." Lavender snorted, as she finally finished taking Hermione's measurements, "I refused them of course, and for good reason; why should I mingle with the people who have easily believed and accepted those lies as truth?"

"It was during those lonely times, that I have seen him for the first time. Fiery red hair and mesmerizing blue eyes… He stood out among everyone in the crowd. He looked like the type of person who should be in the center of attention, the type of person everyone would want to be near. But… No one did." Lavender sighed. "I wanted to talk to him; wanted to know more about him. But… I was scared. I mean, I followed him sometimes, to see what sort of people he tends to talk to and spends time with, but I've always made sure that he never spotted me. For really, what sort of man would want to be interested in a woman who had a reputation of being a 'harlot'? Even his mother snubbed me at one point – but she apologized later. "

"Although the years have passed, and even though the women tried to integrate me back into their fold, they still never invited me to any of their events." She glanced at Hermione, a sad smile on her face. "On that night, everyone was invited to the wedding of the man who was interested in me so long ago. Most of the village was invited, except for me. While I was walking into the empty courtyard, I saw that man once again, sitting beside the fountain. He looked so sad… so vulnerable. My feet moved on their own accord and I asked him if everything was alright. Those words… must have broken whatever composure he had, for the next thing I knew, I had that very same man cry on my chest. I comforted him as much as I could, and when he finally stopped crying..."

She giggled, "His face when he realized what had just happened was hilarious. He fell on the ground, sputtering apologies, face completely red. We parted ways shortly after, and I thought that would be the end of it. But for the next couple of weeks, I always felt like I was being watched whenever I walked around the village. I wasn't able to see who was there; I knew someone was following me. It was only later, when I was walking past that same fountain, that I finally found out who was following me."

"It was the same man I followed, the one I wanted to know more about. The one who stood out to me among the crowd. He told me he wanted to court me; that he wanted to learn more about me, but… I was hesitant. I asked him why; why would he want to be with a 'ruined' woman?" Lavender giggled as she started to sew the fabrics together, "And his answer blew me away. After our encounter by the fountain, he had apparently walked around and started to ask people about me. When everyone started to parrot the rumors, he said he considered to listen to everyone's advice. But… there was only one person who told him not to take the rumors at face value. That he should at least try to see me for who I am, rather than what was said about me. So he followed me around instead as I went through my everyday life."

"And he said… that the more he watched the more awed he was." Lavender sighed dreamily, "He said that on that night when he was at his lowest, no one bothered to stop and ask him what was wrong; that no one cared for him. But when I came to him… he no longer felt alone. He felt that as long as I was there, he could be anything he wanted to be. And that the more he watched, the surer he was that I was similar to him in that sense. Kindred spirits, he said."

Lavender smiled, her drapes turning a soft pink, "So I decided to give him a chance. The more time I spent with him, the more I liked being around him. We had our issues. We had our arguments… but at the end of the day, we remained strong. Months passed, and one day while walking hand in hand, and engaged in him bickering with him, I had this epiphany. That even when things did not seem to be working out, that I wanted to stay beside him. It…" she sputtered, a few ribbons popping out of her drawers, "it is kind of hard to describe, that special feeling. But… I can tell you this," Lavender said, her voice turning serious, "The moment you feel that you cannot imagine yourself living without that other person - when you close your eyes and try to imagine the future, and you see yourself beside him… You will know that he is the one."

Hermione stood there, not knowing what to say. She never would have thought that the bubbly and cheerful Lavender, had been through so much in her life. She opened her mouth, question at the tip of her tongue—

"And done!" the dresser cheered, as she finally finished her creation. Hermione blinked, forgetting what she was going to say. She hadn't felt anything when Lavender started to sew the dress around her figure, and for a second she completely forgot why she was standing there.

"Really, can't you be a little more excited?" Lavender said, her drapes pulled into a pout.

Vaguely feeling Lavender’s handles, Hermione felt herself being pushed towards the direction of the full-body mirror.

Her eyes widened as she took in the vision before her. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her with wide brown eyes. Her hair had been pulled back halfway, accenting her cheeks. Her usually bushy hair was made sleek and shiny, twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head while the rest cascaded down her back.

The dress though, was something that came out of a fairytale book.

It was light; she barely felt it as it caressed her skin. With every movement she made, the small golden embroidery shone, catching the light and casting it back into the room. The color was of a bright yellow; reminiscent of the bright golden rays of the sun.

"I…" Hermione said, touching the smooth glass surface. The girl in the mirror mimicked her action "Is that… really me?"

Lavender smiled, pleased with her work. "Of course it is you. You were like a diamond in the rough; all you needed was a little polish for your shine to truly show."

Hermione turned to the wardrobe, a ball stuck in her throat. "How can I ever thank you? You’ve…" she glanced at the mirror. She is still in shock that the beautiful girl in the mirror was actually _her_!

"Well…" Lavender responded slyly, "You can thank me by having some fun. Dance your heart away; it will make me the happiest woman on earth for you to just let loose and have fun."

"Now," Lavender said, eyeing the gown with a critical eye. "Beautiful. But something is missing…" Sighing, she looked up. Seeing the dust around the gilding which glows in the moonlight, she was struck by a moment of inspiration. Stretching out one of her drawers, she rummaged within it for a bit. Grabbing a sprinkle of _something _out of her drawer, she threw it in the air, silver particles dispersing quickly. Sweeping her arm, a layer of gold dust started to cascade from the ceiling, setting on Hermione's gown in beautifully intricate designs, making the dress even more beautiful.

Pleased with her work, she eyed Hermione with one last look before she shooed her out the door. "C'mon Hermione, you do not want to be late for the ball, right?" She said, winking at the now flushed girl.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione took one last glance at her reflection before she turned around, starting to make her way to the door. Turning to see the wardrobe smiling at her, Hermione reciprocated with a tentative smile.

"Now go Hermione, and have fun. This is _your _night." Her voice then started to sound, a little more hesitant. "And… if there is something you want to say to Harry, do so… okay?"

Hermione frowned, a small flush dusting her cheek. Say something? "What do you mean?" she asked, her heart starting to beat faster.

Lavender smiled. "You will know when the time is right. Now hurry," she said, magically pushing Hermione out the door, "don't keep your prince charming waiting."


	26. Chapter XXV

Hermione stood outside her now locked bedroom; her mind busy with replaying all that Lavender just told her. _Say something? _Like what?

Her heart pounding in her chest, she took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her fast-beating heart. She… she did have an inkling of what she could say… but with her heart wreaking havoc on her mind and _nerves_, she will have to think more about it for some other time.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione started to take the long walk down the hall towards the staircase. Standing before the opening, she smoothes the non-existent wrinkles from her gown. There was nothing to be nervous about, it was just Harry… right? Taking a deep breath, she steps out from the darkness of the corridor into the light of the cavernous room.

Blinking from the brightness, it took a few moments for her eyes to get used to the splendor around her. She gasped, for everything in the whole room shone; she remembers when she first came and saw this very same area. It was so dark, so depressive… But now? It is completely different. Like night and day. The area now filled with light and the warmth brought a stray tear to her eyes.

She delicately blinked it away. 

Making her way into the bright room, the darkness left behind, her eyes widened as she took in the sight at the other end of the room. On the opposite end – on the platform that leads to the West Wing – stood Harry. He was standing there – wearing his best formal wear, looking as nervous as she felt.

He looked up from his fidgeting and caught her eyes. Their eyes met, forest green to amber. In tandem, they walked down the staircase, their eyes never leaving the other's gaze. Her golden heels landing on the center, she blushed as she clearly sees the heated look in Harry's eyes. He smiled at her flustered face, and bowed his head, extending his arm; inviting her, without words, to join him.

She didn't hesitate to take it.

Together they turned around and faced the golden gilded doors. She only entered this place once, and after seeing the unmaintained ballroom, never entered it again. She remembered thinking that it was such a shame that such a beautiful place would look so sad, so… neglected.

Butterflies fluttering in her belly, her eyes widened as she took in the splendor before her, when the doors finally opened. Golden columns line the sides of the round spacious room. Windows rising high into the ceiling, moonlight entering through their clear surface. A majestic chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, crystal ornaments glittering above. She gasped when she noticed that the ceiling was enchanted, showcasing the night sky outside.

With Harry guiding Hermione into the room, standing on a platform at the top of another grand staircase, she widened her eyes as she took it all in. One thing for sure; it was the most beautiful place Hermione had ever seen.

Together, with her arm in his, they descended the staircase. With each step, Hermione's anxiety faded, her nervousness made way for excitement.

He hesitated, for a moment. Hermione, sensing the change in mood, squeezed his arm. Harry glanced down at Hermione and seeing the soft smile she sent his way, relaxed. He continued to lead Hermione down the set flight of stairs to the center of the room.

Music started to magically play in the room, smoothing any remnant of nervousness…

Harry bowed, offering his hand once more…

Hermione curtsied in turn, placing her hand in his…

… And then they began to dance.

They waltzed in perfect harmony, Hermione's feet following Harry's automatically. They moved in a series of delicate steps, each partner in tune with the other. Gliding across the ballroom, one would think that they have danced together for years, not minutes, and once again, Hermione was struck by how comfortable she is with him.

In that moment, nothing else existed in the world except each other.

Despite his bulk, Harry moved carefully… gently. They glided across the expansive ballroom, their eyes never straying from each other. As the music reaches a crescendo, Harry lifts Hermione up by her waist, suspending her in the air. She was spun in place; a beautiful smile adorned her face.

They continued to dance, as music continued to float about them. They danced and danced, until the music finally came to an end. The ballroom fell into a calm yet tense silence.

Hermione felt a strange tug in her chest when she realized it was over.

As if sensing this, Harry gently led Hermione up the raised stage towards the glass door. Motioning her to step outside, Hermione stepped out, breathing the crisp air. Standing outside on a large terrace which circled the ballroom, she took a deep breath, admiring the view of the rose garden below.

Standing by the edge of the terrace, with Harry standing by her side, a companionable silence fell over them as they stared up at the starry sky.

Though the temperature outside was a bit chilly, Hermione still felt a warmth permeating her body. Standing in beside Harry, his body heat radiating off him, she felt as if the warmth of the ballroom somehow found its way outside.

"… I haven't danced in years," Harry said, breaking the silence. "I had almost forgotten the feeling."

Hermione smiled, looking up at Harry. "Well… If I were to grade you, I would give you a solid O."

"An O?" Harry said, chuckling. "Oh, how I wish my dancing instructor were to hear what you just said."

"Why?"

He laughed deeply, "Let me just say that he once told me that no matter how much I practice, I would never be able to get anything higher than an A." Harry said, shaking his massive head. His black unkempt fur moved slightly in the breeze.

Hermione giggled, her eyes grew warmer as she looked up at him, "You definitely have gotten better than an A, well, at least for tonight’s performance."

"That is good to know…" Harry said, his voice trailing off into the breeze. He dragged his eyes down at Hermione. His gaze full of warmth – and something else, he shifted nervously on his feet; not sure whether he should go on.

Hermione, feeling the tension rising in the air, looked up at him. Seeing his conflicting eyes, she raised both of his hands and grasped it in his, her thumbs softly brushing through his soft fur.

The silence dragged. But as the time passed, with Hermione continuing to brush the top of his hand, Harry started to relax. She continued to wait, encouraging him silently in this everlasting moment.

Harry relaxed, soothed by Hermione's quiet comfort. Taking a deep breath, he gathered the courage in his chest and spoke, "Do you think it is foolish… for a creature like me to hope that one day… he might earn you affection?"

The moment he said those words, his heart thumbed harshly in his chest. He closed his eyes, fearing to see the look in Hermione's eyes. He must have made a mistake. This may not be the right time for him to confess. Maybe he can salvage—

Hermione's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. "I… don't know." He opened his eyes, to see not repulsion and horror in her gaze, but rather… conflict?

He expected to be rejected, for him to be told that there was no way she could ever hold affection for him. But the answer she gave him… there is still a chance. She neither said yes nor no. That was way better than anything he could ever hope for – or expected.

Hope flared in his chest. A weight lifted off his shoulders. He stood tall, and gently squeezed her hands in his. "Really?" he asked, "Do you… do you think you can be happy here?"

Hermione blinked, shocked to hear the question that just passed by his lips. Happy? True, she felt happy living in the castle. She loved to spend time with the staff, enjoying their picnics and snowball fights, and felt comfortable being here. The months she spent here are some she would never forget for as long as she lived. But… she knew that behind all the joy and happiness she felt in the castle, there was an undercurrent of sadness.

That her happiness… was not complete.

She could have happily stayed in this castle, living as she had been. But sometimes, in moments of silence, when she was alone, the image of her father, desperately trying to reach her bombards her mind. How could she be happy, when she knows her father is suffering in the village, most likely grieving their forced separation?

She may have the illusion of freedom, but in the dark recesses of her mind, she knows that she was not really free. That in some small manner, she still was a prisoner, trapped in this enchanted castle.

That she still… wasn't free.

"Can anybody be happy if they aren’t free?" Hermione asked softly; voiced tinged in sadness.

Harry winced.

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering the times when her father was still with her. Remembering the times when she sat with him, eating dinner and talking about their day… The times when he scolded her for misfiring an experimental spell on his work bench, transfiguring all of his tools into little ducklings… The times when she cried in bed, and he came to her, soothing her back to sleep…

"You must miss him…" Harry said, sensing where her mind had taken her.

Hermione opened her eyes, her vision blurred as she nodded, "Very much."

Seeing the tears brimming at the corners of Hermione's eyes, Harry felt his heart tighten. He hated seeing her in pain… He hated seeing her cry. And although he might have tried to deny it, he knew without any shadow of doubt, that it is his fault she is so sad. That he was the cause for Hermione's distress.

After all who was the person who had trapped her father in the dungeon? Who was the person who had cruelly separated her from seeing her father ever again?

It was him.

Suddenly, he remembered. Harry had something that would help ease the pain in Hermione's heart. Squeezing her hands in his, he led her off the terrace and back through the ballroom.

Footsteps echoing through the silent corridors, he didn't answer when she asked where they were going, and did not explain when they finally reached his room. Gently leading her toward the table where the enchanted rose lay, he reached over and lifted a small hand mirror up to her.

He had used it to watch Hermione when she first arrived in the castle, but after they had come to an agreement, he stopped using it. Gently using a cloth to clean the dust off its surface, he turned around and faced Hermione, her previously tear-filled eyes now alight with curiosity.

Ignoring the unspoken question in her eyes, he turned his green eyes onto the reflective surface. Facing his reflection, he opened his mouth. "Show me Richard Granger," he clearly said. The moment the image within the mirror started to swirl, colors blending together, he faced Hermione and gently placed the mirror in her hands.

"This mirror… was another thing the Enchantress gave me. It works similarly to the book I showed you a while ago, but instead of taking you to a location; it instead, shows you the person you want to see the most."

Releasing her hands, he took a step back. Hermione for a moment was saddened by the loss of touch between them until she settled to look at the surface of the hand mirror. Watching the colors swirl and blur, a distant part of her mind wandered, wondering what were the enchantments that would make this mirror work as it was made to be.

When the image started to settle, she hoped she would see her father in bed asleep, or even see him in the basement, working on another one of his crafts.

What she did not expect to see – as the colors finally settled – was the image that was before her. With mounting horror, she saw her father being dragged through the village square. She sees most of the village on the streets, forcefully pulling his weakened body towards a mounted carriage. Terror was etched on his face; he was desperately calling for help.

But no one did.

"No... No…" Hermione cried clenching the mirror tightly in her grasp. "What are they doing to him…? Why isn’t anyone stopping this?"

Harry watched Hermione dissolve into tears. His heart clenched as he heard the gut-wrenching sobs leave her lips. This was not what he intended to happen. All he wanted… was to make Hermione happy again. Seeing her sad face when she mentioned her father, he hoped that by making her see him again – even if it was through a mirror – would cheer her up.

Her reaction though was not what he had anticipated. Instead of a happy exclamation as she saw her father, she instead cried out. Wondering what Hermione was looking at, he peered over her shoulder, and his eyes widened as he too saw what was happening to the old man.

His heart twisted as he continued to watch Hermione's father get disgracefully dragged through the village square. He glanced at Hermione; at her tear-filled face, at her gut-wrenching sounds…

His gaze shifted to the rose jar, to the enchanted rose hovering in the air…

… Just as another petal fell.

He looked at the rose and thought of everyone who was counting on him to break the curse. And then he glanced at Hermione, at the pain etched on her face.

Something started to build up in his chest, a swirling pool of _something _stirred within him. He knew had had to choose, but in reality… there was no choice to be made. The mistakes he did… they cannot be brushed away. They cannot be mended. But seeing the devastated look on Hermione's face, he knew that there is something he _can _do. That it is something that he must do —

— Even if it pains him.

"You must go to him," Harry finally said, as he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible.

Hermione looked up, "what did you say?" she asked, not believing her ears.

The pressure in his chest built as he took in Hermione's beautiful face. "You are no longer a prisoner here," he went on, as some of the pressure got released, "there is no time for you to waste."

Hermione looked at Harry not believing her ears. She started to feel the little sphere slowly fluttering on her chest. He would let her go… Just like that? Tears of gratitude dropped on the stone floor, as she looked up at Harry. She cannot see his expression, and the ball on her chest started to grow heavier as the seconds passed. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she _needed _to say to him. She opened her mouth, and was about to say something, _anything –_

— Just as Harry placed a clawed finger against her lips.

Unable to say anything, he shook his head. "There is no time. You need to go to your father. He needs you more than me."

"But…" Hermione sputtered, removing his finger off his lips. "Are you sure? What about the curse…?"

"… It will eventually break." Harry said, halting her questions. She started to return the mirror, but he shook his head.

"Keep the mirror with you," he continued as he forced the words through his teeth, "so you will have a way to look back at me…"

"Thank you," Hermione said, as the orb on her chest glowed once again. She wasn't able to see it, what with the tears blurring her vision.

Harry, through widened his eyes, was surprised as he finally saw it for the first time. He opened his mouth and was about to say something, _anything. _

Before Hermione could change her mind, she turned and ran—

— Just as the Enchantress’ wards collapsed.


	27. Chapter XXVI

Harry didn't move.

He did not want to go downstairs. The idea of seeing everyone's face when they realized what he had done … It broke him. Everyone worked so hard to make the night the perfect night, orchestrating the perfect setting and atmosphere for the task ahead… and he failed.

Unclasping his beautiful dark green coat, he lets it fall to the ground. Clenching his fisted claw, he slammed it against the wall, holding in a repressed sob. His green eyes misting, he closed them; the only image was of Hermione's face before she turned and ran away.

Once upon a time, he had everything he thought he wanted. A prestigious legacy… massive amount of wealth… the adoration of the people he was in charge of… He had all of the materialistic needs any man would ever dream to have… He could have any woman he fancied…

He never needed anybody in his life. Back then, the thought of having someone who intimately knows everything about you frightened him. What is the point of opening up to someone, if in the end he will be hurt and stabbed in return? It was easier like that… simpler to distance himself from everyone around him.

Slowly, he made his way towards the balcony, which overlooks almost everything on his land. There, while sitting on his perch, he watched as Hermione raced off on Buckbeak towards the gate. He heard the gate doors slam shut, and the sound of quickly fading hooves as the horse galloped into the night.

The one person he needed most in the world is now gone. If only he had not been so arrogant and foolish.

No man is an island. Or in his case, a castle. He learned the truth too late.

When he was young and naïve, he always liked the stories he heard about his mother and father. He longed to have that type of connection. But as the years passed, his eyes became jaded by the realities of life. As he grew older, he stopped seeing his parents as an example to emulate, but rather an example to avoid. It was easier. For they have loved and died. So why should he suffer that fate? Wouldn't it be best for him to never love but to live long in turn?

He laughed, as he tried to shove away the pain. This was what he tried to avoid for so long. This was what he feared, for him to love someone, only to be left in the end. That his heart, freely given, would be thrown away in return.

But… as he stood there, uncaring as the rapidly chilling wind blew his coat about, he placed a shaking hand against his chest. He still felt the reassuring beat, could still hear the thumping of the organ in his chest. It is still there, but not completely. For without him noticing, he had at some point given his heart to Hermione – something for her to keep. He had unknowingly given his heart for her to cherish. 

His beating heart clenched as his eyes could no longer see the bright dot fading into the distance. His eyes darted to the door, expecting her to burst through. But he knew… oh he knew that it was not possible. For though he longed for her to come back… he knew it was not possible. For how could she, when she had just faded from view.

His last chance for freedom just slipped through his fingers. He felt as if he was attempting to keep hold of a fistful of sand in his grasp – only for it to slip through his fingers. He had the chance to properly confess his feelings. He had the chance to break free from his curse. But he let the opportunity slip away…

But her face… it resonated with him. He knew then that if he had followed his head, she would have stayed. But instead, he followed what his heart had dictated. And now… he would never know what it would be like to be free. He traded his own freedom for hers. He traded everyone else’s freedom for hers.

… And oddly enough, he does not feel even a single bit of regret. For even if she were to never return… As the long lonely nights begin… He is certain, that he will be there, waiting for her for all eternity.

Taking a deep shaky breath, Harry stumbled back inside, and though the warmth started to permeate his body once more, he still felt cold. Grabbing a blanket, he covered himself and started to make his way to the rose jar. Earlier, he avoided looking at it; purposely avoided laying his eyes on the enchanted rose floating inside.

Now… As he bent down to stare at the rose in question, his heart lurched when he saw the sight before him. A withered rose now floats within the jar; the colors – once vibrant – were now faded… and dark. The rose that was once in full bloom, now stands wilted.

Only three petals remain.

He flinched when he heard the unmistakable sound of Remus's waddle. He turned around slowly, only to spot the aforementioned mantle clock slowly approaching him.

"Harry," Remus said, his voice tinted with glee, " I may have had my doubts, but everything is moving like clockwork. No pun intended. Any day now, Hermione will confess her feelings, and the curse will finally end!" His mechanical face shifted into a bright smile, "Ah, I cannot wait to—"

"… I let her go," Harry murmured, voice hitched as he said the last word. What good was delaying the inevitable? Best to tell the harsh truth than to prolong a sweet lie; it would hurt less in the long run. A part of him wonders; how long would it take for everyone in the castle to know what he had done?

"No… You cannot be serious," Remus said disbelieving, "I- must be hearing things… Y-yeah, that is right. Hearing—"

Harry clenched his fist to strengthen his resolve. "I let her go," he repeated, his tone flat.

Remus' gears stopped moving for a second then started to move into overdrive. "You… You _what?_"

With that, the door to his suite opened, revealing the rest of the staff. Sirius ran inside, his flame flickering while Marlene flew through the open door. Mrs. Weasley, however, followed the two sedately on her trolley. The looks on their faces were telling enough – they had heard everything.

"Harry, you…" Sirius said, his flames growing dimmer by the second. "Please tell me that wasn't true. You…" he took a deep breath, his voice wavering "How could you do that?"

"I had to," Harry replied simply.

Sirius and Remus glanced at each other in unison. The same thought passing through their minds. They were so close to breaking free of the curse… So why…?

"Had to?" Remus sputtered, finally snapped out of his stupor. "What do you mean _had to? _What sort of reason do you have to let her go? Why? When this is time, we needed her the most?"

Both of them were staring at Harry in confusion. His behavior was odd. The Harry they knew would never have let a chance slip through his fingers. But now? He looked like a completely different person. They have never seen him like this.

Seeing Harry’s downtrodden demeanor, Mrs. Weasley knew better. That look in his eyes every time he mentioned her… It was so obvious if one were to search for it. "Because he loves her," she answered softly when it was clear that Harry won't be answering.

The rest looked amongst each other in bewilderment. _Love her_? They turned to Harry, and looked at him, half expecting him to deny the claim. But when he slumped in defeat, not refuting Mrs. Weasley's statement…

"… Then it must be true…" Marlene said, her voice breaking the silence.

"But if that is the case, then why aren’t we human?" Sirius asked, still confused. He stared at his metallic body, half expecting it to go back to what it was before. But as the seconds passed and no change occurred, his eyes found the glass jar, and the rose which lay under it. That was the whole point of the curse, right? He had to learn how to love to break it. So why aren't they human again?

Remus unfortunately was no longer confused. Now he was mad. "Because _she _does not love _him_!" he snapped. "That is what the Enchantress said, didn't she? If he could learn to love another and_ earn their love in return_ by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken_._" He scoffed, gears grinding within, "Honestly, we were _so _worried that Harry won't learn to love the girl when in reality, it was _the girl _we should have been worried about. We aren't back to being human, so that could only mean one thing. She does not love Harry!"

"But…" Sirius said, comprehension dawning on his face. "That can't be true… right? Hermione does love Harry; I am absolutely sure of it. It was clearly evident on her face."

Scoffing, Remus turned to Sirius, glaring at the candelabrum. "No, she does not love Harry. You may _think _that, but if it were true, why are we still cursed? Believe anything you want, but you must accept the fact."

Sirius shook his head, not wanting to believe what his friend was telling him. As much as he would love to deny it, he cannot help but hear a ring of truth from Remus' words. "She… may not… _love _him. But she must like him. I am sure of it…"

Remus shook his frame, sadly eyeing the devastated look on Sirius's face. It was hard for him to say all that, but it is best for Sirius to accept the facts now than to build up his expectations – only to be devastated in the end.

"But," Marlene interjected her sultry feminine voice breaking the escalating tense atmosphere, "We still have time, right? There are only a few petals left… That will give us an ample amount of time for her to come back – at least a couple of weeks, right?" She tried to lace her tone with hope but no one believed in her conviction.

"No," Harry said, his deep voice cutting through the conversation. It would make sense that no one had felt the wards fall – not just any wards, but the ones the Enchantress placed on his land; the one that bent time. From what he had gathered, time in the castle flowed differently than that in the outside world. One day outside the wards would feel like a week inside. That had given Harry a much longer duration for him to try to break the curse. But now… with the wards down… it just wasn't possible. "The Enchantress’ wards have fallen, we would be lucky to last through the night."

All of them stood, shocked by the words that came out of Harry's mouth. No… time? At one point, they felt like they had all the time in the world, but now as the time neared its end, they cannot help but wonder; where did it all go?

"But…" Marlene interjected, ever so optimistic, "she might still come back, right…?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I've set her free." He turned his back on the staff, not wanting to see their crestfallen faces. Devastated and disappointed faces that were there because of him.

"I am sorry I couldn't do the same for all of you," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

Back turned, he heard everyone leave the room, most likely gone to comfort each other for one last time. Someone, however, still remained. After everyone had left, the voice spoke up, "You saw it… Didn't you? The Golden Snitch…" Harry turned, only to see Mrs. Weasley staring at him with sad eyes. "You know what that means… right?" she continued, her voice ringing in his ears, "There is still hope."

Harry hesitantly smiled, "It may be… But she is gone. She won't come back."

"You wouldn't know that now," the teapot said. "If I weren’t mistaken, it was the very same snitch that used to hang around Lady Potter's neck. Hermione… must have been wearing it the whole time she was here. The mere fact you saw it… It is a declaration in on itself."

He wouldn't dare hope. Even if everything Mrs. Wesley said was true, it would be foolish of him to believe in happy endings. That everything would work out in the end. She had already left, didn't she?

Mrs. Weasley smiled sadly. She had an inkling as to what sort of thoughts were running through his mind. "Don't lose hope Harry. Things may seem grim right now, but… the light will shine through in the end. You will see."

With that, she turned around and made her way out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Harry released a staggering sigh. Standing up, he threw the blanket on the bed and grabbed a cloak off the rack, fastening it around his neck. He made his way to the top of the tower, overlooking the snowy view.

His eyes trailed to the last place he saw Hermione in, before she faded from view. He sat down; green eyes still trained on that point of the dark forest.

Sitting there on top of the lonely tower, he closed his eyes. Even if she were to never come back, he will still be here, waiting for her return forevermore.


	28. Chapter XXVII

Hermione urged Buckbeak on, her heels digging into his sides. She knew she was asking too much of the old horse, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her father was in danger and from what she had glimpsed, no one was helping him. Glancing behind, she was just able to spot the castle, towering in the distance before it was obscured by the trees. 

She let out a quiet sob as she raced through the cold forest, a tear escaping the confines of her eye. There was nothing else she could do. Her father was in danger, and knowing the villagers' temperament, it will not end well. As she passed through the cold forest, she looked around, not able to see where the horse was going. It had been months since she had ventured into the forest. She prayed Buckbeak still remembers the way. It was only when they have passed by a familiar frozen pond that she started to truly recognize the path. When she saw a fallen scorched tree up ahead, she knew she had finally left the confines of Harry's lands.

As Hermione passed by the opening of the hidden path, she caught a glimmer of gold at the corner of her eyes. She twisted her neck, wanting to see the source of the light, only to see nothing there. Facing forward once again, she put it in the back of her mind.

A crow cawed in the distance…

As the moon rose higher in the sky, Hermione finally burst through the woods and into a clearing overlooking the village. Alarmed at the speed of which they passed through the forest, she stopped Buckbeak, briefly looking into the dark forest she just emerged from. It was odd. When she ventured into the forest to search for her father all those months ago, it took hours for her to reach that downed scorched tree. Now… the trip from the castle to the edge of the forest only took her less than an hour to make the journey.

Something must have happened to have caused such a large anomaly to occur. But, as she turned back to face the village, she knew there wasn't any time for her to sate her curiosity. There was no time. Even from a distance, she can tell that many of the villagers have lit their torches and were in the center of the village square. The light could be seen even from far away.

Remembering the image, she saw in the hand mirror – of the many villagers laughing and dragging her father along the rough hardened road towards the village square – her hands tightened against the reigns. She urged Buckbeak on, praying that she was not too late.

* * *

"This man is weak!" squeaked Reverend Filius as he struggled to follow the crowd marching ahead. He had been walking by the tavern when he saw Richard getting thrown out into the street. Wondering what was going on, he tried to help the man when he was pushed aside by the angry crowd, only to see the man being forcefully pulled to his feet. He heard him cry out in pain as he was dragged towards the direction of the city center. "He is injured! He needs a Healer!" Spotting Draco Malfoy walking among the crowd, he managed to catch up to the man, just as Richard was being thrown into the carriage. "Mr. Malfoy, you were a Field Healer during the war, weren’t you? Can't you help Mr. Granger?"

Draco looked down at the diminutive man, and drawled, "Revered, this man's condition is beyond my help. No one can help him now."

"B-but, you can!" 

Draco clicked his tongue. He had no time to listen to useless nobodies. Catching the eyes of two men who were standing right behind the Reverend, he nodded his head. They both sent him a feral grin as they, understanding the unspoken request, both calmly extracted their wands as Draco pretended to hear the objections of the short man. He didn't flinch when two red streams of light hit the man's back.

Turning his back, he slowly made his way towards the carriage. He relished in the look of pure terror on Richard's face when he finally noticed _who _was coming closer. Standing in front of the open carriage door, his eyes locked with the old man. "Well…" Draco drawled, piercing Richard with a cold hard gaze, "Look what we have here… "

"Draco please, don't do this. This isn't right!"

"What isn't right," Draco said, "Is for you to try to tarnish the reputation that I've _carefully _crafted. I spent _years _working on it, and you think," he snarled, "that I'd allow you to ruin it because of a crazy tale you have made in your deranged mind?"

Draco leaned forward, getting dark enjoyment on how Richard’s face paled, "I won't allow your delusions to ruin my life." He whispered in Richard’s ear, whilst gently moving an errant lock to the back of the old man’s ear, "We can either do this the easy way… or the hard way."

He suddenly pushed himself away from the old man. It was a blessing that the crowd was loud enough to mask this conversation. "If you ever want to see your daughter again, agree to my demands. Give me your daughter's hand… and I'll set you free. So?" he said with a closed-eyed smile, "What do you say?"

Draco stood there, relishing in his dominance. There is no way the old man won't agree to this demand. After all—

Richard spit on Draco's face.

Raising a shaking hand, he wiped the dripping fluid off his face.

He closed his eyes.

"Well then. Don't say I didn't warn you." Clenching his jaw, he moves a step back, closing the iron door with a clank. His eyes locked with that of the rider, the esteemed Walden Macnair, and one of his father's most prized friends. "Don't move just yet. I think it would be most kind to give that man’s daughter a chance to say goodbye to her father."

Macnair nodded in response, knowing full well why he is here. "Alright. But I cannot stand here all night."

Draco nodded. Making his way to stand beside his friend, he cannot help but smile smugly at the old man who was peering through the bars. His victory is imminent! All he could do now… is wait. 

* * *

Buckbeak's hooves thundered against the grass planes until they hit the cobblestone roads of the village; she started to hear a distant commotion coming from the village center. Hermione steered Buckbeak in that direction, feverently praying that what she saw inside the mirror was just a fabrication. 

To her dismay, that wasn't the case.

A crowd had gathered in the village center – her eyes widened at the size of it – it seemed that everyone had decided to be outside tonight. A foreboding feeling crawling up her spine, she spotted an eerie horseless carriage in the center of the village, which looked like a small metal prison with its steel frame and tiny barred window.

Seeing a familiar logo, drawn on the side of the carriage, she gasped as she read the words drawn on its surface.

_St Mungo_s _Ward of the Mentally Disturbed_

Wildly looking around, she spotted Draco and Ronald, standing nearby. Draco looked smug, a barely hidden darkness lurking within his grey orbs, while Ronald looked noticeably uncomfortable at the scene before him.

Wondering what were they looking at, she followed their line of sight. Her eyes widened as her breath caught. _Her father was inside the cage_.

Seeing how the driver was making his way towards the front of the cart, she kicked Buckbeak forward as she made her way to the front of it. "_Stop!" _she cried.

Hermione's voice cut through the chattering crowd. They turned, wondering who was the person who had dared to stop the proceedings, only to fall silent at the vision before them. Their eyes widened as they took it all in. Hermione's ball gown flowed around her; the golden trimmings caught the moonlight making the dress shimmer in the darkness. Her previously bushy hair was now twisted into elegant curls. Everyone stood there, awestruck. For who would have expected Hermione of all people to look so… beautiful?

Hermione though ignored all of the looks and stares that were coming her way. Head held high, she ran towards the cart, ignoring the whispers floating around her. Some wondered where she had come from after being missing for so long. Others wondered if it was really her; there was no way such an alluring person could be Hermione, the village bookworm. She even heard a few girls, snipping at her gown, and making snide comments on her choice of apparel.

All this did not matter. All those comments did not matter. What mattered was the fact that almost everyone here had made up their minds to send her father away.

Draco though, licked his lips as his grey eyes devoured the vision before him. Yes. This is the woman he imagined Hermione to be. Now… For the final goodbye…

"Hermione!" Draco called as he made his way to the distraught girl – No, _woman _– standing before him. By the time he reached her, she had already run up the locked cage, "Where have you been? You have been dearly missed-"

"Stop this right now!" Hermione ordered, glaring at the amassed crowd. She glared at Draco, then glanced at her father, who now lay on the floor of the cart, clenching his side in pain. Widening her eyes, she went to remove the bar that prevented her from opening the door, "Open the door! He is hurt!"

Macnair was fed up with the constant interruptions. He climbed down from his perch, heading towards the disturbance. Hermione couldn't help but cringe. This man… reeks of Dark Magic. A shiver went up her spine as she saw the cold detached look in his eyes. Her necklace vibrated on her chest. She'd have mistaken this man for a dementor if he had worn a black cloak; just being around him fills her with dread.

"Miss… Granger," he said, his cold voice making her shiver in place, "I am afraid we can't do that. But don't worry; we'll take care of him for you." The words may sound reassuring, but the look in his eyes says otherwise.

"_No one_ is going to lay a hand on my father!" Hermione responded. Her eyes narrowing at the veiled implication. She glared at the crowd, who were now whispering loudly amongst themselves. "He is _not _crazy!"

She turned and looked around the crowd, hoping for help. "Won't… anyone help me?" she pleaded. No one stepped forward.

Draco had seen enough. He'd have thought that Hermione knew about his part in Richard’s current situation. But seeing how she didn't point fingers at him… The situation couldn't get any more perfect. Stepping out of the shadows he hid in when he first laid eyes on Hermione, he slowly made his way back to the front, relishing in the silence that came when everyone saw who was walking towards her. "Hermione," he said, plastering a sympathetic expression on his face, "you know how loyal I am to your family but," he sent a sad frown in Richard’s direction, "your father had been making some unbelievable claims."

Mr. Weasley, who had been silent this whole time, stepped forward. Noticing everyone's eyes on him, he looked at Hermione. "It is true what Draco have been saying, "Mr. Weasley said, "He has been raving about some beast in a castle, and how you have been trapped there like some prisoner."

Hermione, who had been holding her breath, let out a large sigh of relief. So this was why her father is being treated like some circus freak. "I have come from the castle and there is a beast!"

Draco scoffed as he heard the words that came out of Hermione's mouth, "Please, Hermione. There is no need for you to reiterate what your old man was saying just to save him." He shook his head as he made his way towards her, stopping right in front of her. Raising his hand, he softly caressed her face with the back of his hand, "I admire your devotion to your father, but you'd say anything to free him." He gave her a condescending smile, "Your word is hardly proof."

Panic gripped Hermione's heart. Proof? "I can show you my memories," Hermione said, "Won't that be enough? You own a pensive, right?"

Draco shook his head, "Memories could be altered and falsified easily; you know that."

Hermione clenched her fist, shaking in place. She needed something to show them that what she is saying is the truth. Physical evidence. But what? Feeling the pocket in her dress, her hand grazed against the handle of the enchanted mirror Harry gave her before she departed. She hesitated; would that be enough? Glancing at the closed cart – at her father's face peering through the bars – her fingers wrapped around the handle. She sighed. It had to be enough!

"You want proof?" she asked. Pulling out the mirror from her hidden pocket, she held tenderly in her hands. She never wanted to call Harry this ever again, but now, as she was cornered by everyone, she had to say it, "_Show me the Beast!_"

Once the image settled, her heart clenched as she saw Harry's devastated face as he sat on top of a tower, looking longingly ahead. She bit her lip as she held it up to face the villagers, "Is this proof enough?"

Draco's face grew pale as his eyes saw the image in the mirror. This… Cannot be. "You lie," he said through gritted teeth. "You must have bewitched it to show you what you wanted to be seen. There is no way that thing," he said, pointing at the mirror, "is real."

Hermione was fed up with all this denial. Whipping out her wand she pointed it at her heart, "_I – Hermione Jean Granger – swear upon my magic that the image shown within this ornate mirror has never been altered by me or mine_." She intoned as sparks flew out of her wand. With a quick jab, her wand lit up, her _lumos _blinding everyone who was near.

"Is this… proof enough?"

With those uttered words, everyone recoiled. Some cried, whilst others screamed. Pandemonium struck everyone when they realized that the image in the mirror was true; that the beast was real. Hermione watched, biting her lip nervously. She hadn't thought things through when she brought out the mirror. So focused on proving her point – that her father wasn't a liar – she forgot a very important fact.

That the villagers would only see Harry as what he appears to be – a beast.

Draco, noticing Hermione's lapse of attention, snatched the mirror from her hand. He raised it up, holding it high above him to allow everyone a chance to look at the monster. "Look at this filthy monster. Look at his fangs! His claws!"

"No!" Hermione cried out, trying to fix the situation. She should have expected this. She had spent so much time around Harry that she had at some point no longer took note of his outward appearance. That she had learned to look through his persona and started to see the man inside the beast. So, to see this reaction… it is breaking her heart. "Don't be afraid. Please…" she pleaded. "He may look intimidating, but please believe me… Underneath all those fur and fangs is a kind and gentle soul."

Draco shot Hermione a look, not believing her words. Kind? Gentle? From what he could see there is no way that this _thing _could ever be 'kind' and 'gentle'. As calculating eyes roamed Hermione's figure, his eyes spotted a gleam shining around her neck. He walked forward towards Hermione, who – upon noticing Draco's advancement - backed up against the locked door of the cage. Hand reaching towards the… the thing hanging from around her neck, he was about to wrap his hand around it when a golden shield threw him away from her.

Thrown on the ground, he slowly stood up, eyeing Hermione again. "Did everyone see that?" he asked loudly, making sure everyone were able to hear him. "Has everyone seen how I was thrown away?" Hearing the murmurs of confirmation, he pointed his finger at Hermione, "She is clearly under a spell!" he called out, "If I didn't know better," he continued, ignoring the protests coming from Hermione's direction as he turned to face the crowd, "I'd say she even _cared _for this monster!"

Hermione recoiled as if slapped. After everything he had done, _he _had the audacity to call Harry a _monster? _She glared at Draco, not afraid to look at the murky darkness that was stirring beneath the surface of his eyes. She knew she had lost. After all, who would ever believe _her _over _him_? Draco was the village war hero, the one who had valiantly faced against Voldemort's Death Eaters in the war, who had risked his life to save countless soldiers. And her? She was plain old Hermione, the village know-it-all.

Draco saw this though. Deciding to rile up the villagers even more, he called out in a loud voice, "I have heard the effects of Dark Magic, but have never seen it with my own eyes before!" The more Draco spoke, the more incensed they felt. It didn't take him long to rile them into a frenzy against the Beast.

Hermione slowly backed away. She knew she had no hope of turning the tide in her favor. If she could _just _manage to hide behind the wagon, maybe she'd have the chance to—

Luck wasn't on her side. Draco managed to turn around, satisfied with what he had done, just in time to catch Hermione slowly itching away from the crowd. "We can't have her running off to warn the beast," he said. "Lock her up."

Before she could turn and run, one of the men grabbed Hermione roughly by the arm. Ignoring her cry of pain, they unceremoniously threw her inside the cart her father is in. Slamming against the hard iron floor, she looked up only to see Draco standing there, wand in hand. Before she was able to do or say anything, he shot a white spell at her, only to be deflected by the golden shield once more.

Draco clicked his tongue, "A shame that didn't work…" he eyed the golden pendant around her neck, "whoever enchanted that necklace sure knew what they were doing. Oh well," he said as he tucked his wand, "guess I really will need to kill the beast…"

"What! No Draco please… don't kill him," Hermione pleaded, "I—"

Shaking his head, Draco took a step back away from the opening and closed the door with a bang. "I cannot do that my dear… You know that." Draco smiled, a dark look entering his eyes, "You obviously aren't in your right state of mind, but don't worry. As soon as the Beast is killed, I am sure _that," _he said pointing through the bars at Hermione's necklace, "will fall accordingly." Raising his hand, he pushed his pale blonde locks away from his eyes, "And once _that _happens… You will _finally _be _mine_."

With that, he turned away. He simply tuned out the voice of Hermione's pleas as he walked away. He glanced around, inspecting the work the villagers had done. Some apparently went to take their children back to their homes. Others went to collect some torches and started to hand those over to the rest of the villagers; while some ran to wake and bring those who were still at home.

Watching the spectacle before him while everyone was unaware, his mask slipped. Ron shivered as he caught Draco's expression, but soldered on towards his… friend. "Draco, with all due respect, are you sure—"

"Look _Weasley_," Draco snarled, "I do not have time to question everything I am doing. All I want _is your support_. So please, enlighten me. Are you going to stand by me as a _friend_ or…" he glanced at the cart, "… would you rather want to join them in their new home?"

Ron gulped. There was only one possible answer, "I will always stand beside you Draco; _no matter what happens._"

With a nod, Draco walked towards his stallion, stroking the mane of the majestic beast.

No matter what may happen, one thing is for sure.

By the end of the night… he will be hailed a hero once more, and Hermione will finally be his.


	29. Chapter XXVIII

Unlike Hogsmeade, whose villagers were getting up in arms with war in their hearts, the residents of the castle have instead taken a different approach to the news they have heard.

Ever since they learned about what had happened between Hermione and Harry, they were devastated. Hermione had fled, and with the wards down, the rose - which has stood strong for a very long time - now stands weak and wilted. This only means one thing; that time was truly about to run out.

As the night grew darker and colder, the staff gathered together in the foyer, taking solace in all they had left – each other. Knowing that the curse will end, they all sat together, huddled together for comfort. Mrs. Weasley was busy comforting the unnaturally subdued Fred and George. Marlene was resting her head against Sirius' shoulders dancing across the marble floor. Remus on the other hand, had been drawn and serious. He was sitting on the edge of one of the window sills.

"He has finally learned how to love," Sirius said sadly, dancing with his beloved on the floor, "Who would have thought… that Harry could change so much in such a small amount of time…"

Remus snorted, "A lot of good that does if nothing good came out of it." He shook his head, his gears grumbling within his chest, "Harry may have learned to love Hermione, true, but… She never loved him in return," he pointed out.

"But she does!" Sirius responded, ending his last dance with Marlene. He bowed, and with her curtsey, focused his attention fully on Remus, "How many times must I tell you? Hermione loves Harry! I am absolutely sure of it!"

The mantle clock shook his head, "A lot of good that did us. Since you are so sure of their love for one another - especially Hermione's - then tell me. Enlighten me. Why aren’t we _human_?"

Sirius stood there, "Maybe something else must need to happen for the curse to be broken? She loves him, and he loves her so… Maybe they have to say it to each other?"

"But that would mean…" Remus blinked, staring in confusion at the candelabrum, "Wait, are you telling me that even though they had all the time and chances to do so, _they never confessed_? That they never bothered to verbalize their feelings in all the time they had spent together?"

Sirius' nod was all the confirmation Remus needed.

"Honestly," Remus said, his gears going into haywire, "what did he expect to happen; that the curse would be broken by an _understanding _of all things?" He scoffed, "This is _ridiculous! _It is common knowledge that the only definitive way for someone to know the feelings of someone else is to either _ask _or _clearly say what it is you are feeling to the other person_!" Remus shook his head, "Stubborn idiots, the both of them! Maybe we should have followed Fred and George's suggestion and locked them in a room until they confessed. Maybe then, the curse would have been broken…"

Sirius sighed, leaning against the foggy glass window, "It is pointless for us to talk about what should have happened and what we could have done to make this work. The past is in the past." He lowered his head, his flame diminishing clearly, "There is nothing we could do. Harry is on top of a turret, grumpy and moody, while Hermione is out of the castle, most probably at home with her father."

Mrs. Weasley, who had been hearing everything the two men were saying, wheeled her cart closer to the grumpy and resigned pair. "I disagree," she said, causing the clock and the candelabrum to jolt in shock at her sure tone of voice. "This is the first time I believe that we truly have a chance – she will come back."

Remus opened his mouth to make a snippy retort when he was stopped by George's voice. "Shush you lot!" he said hopping towards the frosty window pane as he pressed himself against it. Fred, wondering what his brother was doing, hopped down the tray and joined his brother. Listening intently, they both brightened up when they heard a distant sound coming closer and closer, "Fred you hear it too, right? Something is coming!"

The rest of the staff jumped up from their position and rushed to join the twins at the window pane. Sirius, who had been leaning against it, turned around and tried to see through the glass to no avail. He could barely see the light from the torches that are flashing through the trees.

Sirius' flames erupted in excitement, "Could it be?" he asked, a hopeful tilt in his voice. He held up one of his arms, and with a flame, started to warm the window until the frost melted. Peering through the now clear glass, he only had to see a mob holding torches to understand what was going on.

"No… Impossible! _Invaders_!"

The others peered through the window. Sirius was right. It wasn't Hermione coming through the forest returning to see Harry as they had all expected. It was a mob! Jumping down from the embrasure, everyone darted towards the door.

"Why didn't the wards prevent them from entering?" Remus asked as he waddled as fast as he could. Many others, from tables to armchairs, ran towards the door, forming a sad barricade against the upcoming mob.

"I think," Sirius yelled, pushing his back against the wooden door, "it is because of the curse. Isn't it odd that the moment the Enchantress placed the curse; no one came into the castle? It was as if the location of the castle and everything related to it had been protected by a powerful Fidelius charm, am I correct?"

The thundering of boots kept getting closer…

"So… if I were to guess, the first Secret Keeper must have been Harry. It would make the most sense as to why no one found or came into the castle – since he had no one to _tell _it to while being stuck inside this orb!"

Marlene flew up and proceeded to bolt the locks that were too high for anyone else to reach. "But… if that were the case, how did Hermione's father find the location of the castle? It should have been impossible for anyone to find it… right?" She asked as she finally bolted the last lock.

"It was the thunderstorm." Remus answered as he pressed himself against the door. "Thunderstorms – especially magically powered ones – have the tendency to disrupt the most powerful of wards. They are extremely rare, sure, but they happen often enough in magical societies. If these magically powered lightning strikes an area near the boundary of a ward, a temporary gap in the ward will appear." He shook his frame as he started to hear angry voices coming from the other side of the door. "Those gaps tend to remain open for three days."

"This would explain how easy it was for Mr. Granger and Hermione to pass the ward in the first place…" Sirius tilted his head as he took the information in, trying his best to distract himself from the sounds coming from beyond the door. "So now, since the wards fell, it would mean that… The curse… is going to end?" Sirius asked desperation clear in his tone.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "You are correct. The curse is going to end soon. But… to what end, we don't know. For now, we have to protect the castle as much as we could until then."

Remus fidgeted in place. Although everyone may think that they would be able to stop the mob, he knew otherwise. They are all antiques; knickknacks. The only person who would be able to really stop them was Harry and the last time he went, he was still seated there on the turret, sitting as still as a statue.

He shook his head; no, something has to be done.

* * *

Hermione gazed out the prison bars, only to see Macnair pacing by the fountain, twirling the keys in his fingers. Her hands were clenched at her sides while her eyes went wild as she desperately tried to find an escape route. She checked the windows, she checked the ceiling. Heck, she even tried to remove the padded floor, to no avail. 

She glanced at the man as he continued to pace in the village center. Every now and then, when he knows she is looking, he sends her a disturbing smile, filled with promise – and not the good type either. Hermione looked through the bars once again, only to see said vile man sending her that same smile. Grimacing, she started to pace within the small confines of the cart.

She needed to escape.

She needed to warn Harry.

"Warn him?" Richard asked in confusion. The last he knew, Hermione was being kept prisoner by the same Beast who imprisoned him. "Warn this… Harry character? Was he the one who saved you from the Beast?"

Hermione stopped pacing as she turned around to look at her father. She could see the circles under his eyes, could see the scratches covering his face. His face sullen, as if he didn't eat much during the time she was away. Who could have done such a thing?

For now, she put it in the back of her mind. Her father asked her a question. She kneeled on the floor in front of her father and took his hands in hers. A small weight lifted off her chest when she felt his warmth through her fingers. Without another warning, she hugged her father, relishing in the comfort of his hug.

Richard decided not to say a thing as his daughter hugged him. He knew that for her, she hadn't seen him in a while. He knows that; he had been in that prison for a week, when in actuality, only a day has passed. Since his daughter have been in that castle for two weeks, it would only make sense that it felt longer for her.

Extracting himself from his daughter’s loving embrace, he gave her a moment to compose herself before he continued. "So, are you going to answer me?" Richard asked, staring inquisitively at his daughter, "Who is this Harry person? And how did he help you escape the castle?"

Hermione does not know what to say. How could she tell her father that the same person who had imprisoned him for a whole week, and then later imprisoned his daughter in his place, was the same person who helped her escape the castle? The same person who made sure she was well cared for during her moments of loneliness!

"Well," Richard quirked his eyebrow, "I am waiting."

Hermione hesitantly smiled. "I… know it is hard to believe, but the Harry who helped me leave the castle is the same Beast who imprisoned you all that time ago."

Richard blinked. There… Was no way that could be true… right? From what he had seen of the Beast, he was cruel and callous. He never cared for his well being, and all but threw him on the cold hard floor with no remorse. That is the person who saved his daughter? The one who allowed her to leave the castle?

He looked in her eyes, trying to see if his daughter had somehow been duped. That maybe she had been confounded to think like that. But as he looked into his daughter’s eyes, seeing them as clear and lucid as possible… It is surreal. How could his daughter - who had hated that Beast - just forgive him for what he had done?

"I… don't understand."

Hermione smiled as she took in her father's conflicted face. She knew it would be hard to believe what she said, especially after what they had experienced in the castle. But… there is one thing she does have that might ease his fears.

Reaching into the hidden pocket in her gown, her hand grazed over the shrunken old book she had put inside. She grinned as she grasped it and her wand. It was pure luck that no one even bothered to forcefully take her wand away from her – it was as if they forgot she even had one. Taking the miniature book out of her pocket, she placed it in front of her father, and with a tap of her wand, it went back to its normal size.

She smiled softly as her father slowly reached out to touch the book with a shaking hand. He briefly touched the book softly, and caressed the worn golden title.

_The Little Match Girl _

Gingerly opening the cover, he released a heart-wrenching sob as he read what was written at the top of the page beside a simple drawing of a rose.

_Do not watch the petals fall from the rose with sadness; know that, like life, things sometimes must fade, before they can bloom again._

_E.J.G_

He sobbed silently as Hermione told him how Harry had taken her to London and showed her their old home. Richard caressed the book, as if scared that it would crumble if held for too long until a sudden realization hit him. Hermione… knows the truth.

"Hermione", he began, "Please understand. Back then… there was nothing I can do—"

In a move Richard did not expect, Hermione hugged him as he continued to sob, muttering apologies all the while. "Dad—" she said, startling him to silence, "I understand. There is no need to apologize."

They sat there, arms around each other until Richard finally managed to compose himself. "Well," a laugh forced its way out of his mouth, "that was the last thing I expected you to get out of your pocket. I expected a bunny or something…"

Hermione laughed as she wiped the stray tear that had escaped her eyelid. "So do you want to help me now?"

Richard smiled. "Let us pray that everything is going to go smoothly, okay? Now if I may ask, you said the Beast’s name is Harry, right?"

She nodded, "Yes, his name is Harry. Why, is there something wrong?"

"No no!" He said, laughing at the confused look on his daughter’s face, "It is just, I have no idea what his last name is, and for some reason I have a feeling I heard that name before, but," he frowned, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration, "I have no idea from where…"

"Oh! I forgot to tell you, his name is Harry P-"

"Harry P-P—"

Richard laughed somewhat at the look on Hermione's face. She looked like she was trying to cough out a lemon, but is failing. "No need to tell me. I had a feeling that this may seem to be the case." He leaned back against the cushioned seat, "If I were to hazard a guess, his last name, the name and location of his castle, and other important information seemed to be guarded. Most likely by a different version of the Fidelius Charm."

"But… Why would he—"

"That is something for you to ask once you meet with him again. Now!" He clapped his hands, startling Hermione out of the deep train of thought she found herself in. "You want me to help you, correct?"

Hermione nodded, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "Yes. I…"

He shushed her. "No, don't tell me. Whenever you finally meet up with him, tell it to his face. Now," he said, as he eyed the lock on the door, "time to get out of here." He grinned, "Shall we?"


	30. Chapter XXIX

Remus grunted as he pulled himself up on another stone step. He knew this may be a fruitless endeavor, but he had no other choice. The angry screams and yells of the mob were getting louder by the minute, and with how lost everyone was feeling and acting upon realizing the imminent danger they were in, he knew he had to do something.

In their current state, the chance of defending the castle and defeating the mob was almost nonexistent. With the magic they had at their disposal, or lack thereof, there was barely anything they could do. But… if Harry were to come and help defend the castle, maybe not all would be lost.

Glancing out one of the stone windows, his gears caught as he eyed the tiny pinpoints of light which were slowly making their way through the courtyard. Even from here, close to the very top of the tower, he can hear the chants of the mob. For Harry to not come down, even though he can _hear _and _see _the danger… He shivered, dismissing the thought before it took root; he prayed that wasn't the case...

Steeling himself, he continued to wobble and hop up the last flight of stairs. Sighing in relief when he saw the familiar corridor, he hurried as fast as his frame could handle towards the open door of the West Wing. It was a good thing that it was left open – who knows how he would have entered the room otherwise.

Remus's inner workings jammed as he looked around the suite and failed to find the object of his search. Frame twisting back and forth, it was only when he felt a cold breeze hit him that he turned to look at the direction of the balcony. His frame relaxed somewhat once he noticed that its door was left ajar, so he went there.

Walking through the glass door, his eyes spotting even from a distance the orange lights slowly making their way through the courtyard. He bit his body lip, suppressing the urge to throw something against the wall – anything. If Harry was actually here, he would definitely be able to see it – see the danger approaching the castle – and still… But no. Maybe he really cannot see the danger, or at least he hoped not. 

Peering around, he tried to spot Harry, but no matter where he looked, all he saw were stone gargoyles lining the walls of the balcony. It was only when he passed a shadowed part of the wall that he did spot Harry, standing as still as the statue beside him. Face cloaked in darkness, Remus was unable to see his face, but he cannot help but notice how tense his shoulders were.

Remus cleared his throat, "Excuse me Harry, but I think you need to be informed that the castle is under attack. It is understandable that you would not—"

"I do not care." Harry said, not bothering to look up.

"—know about it- Wait what?" Remus sputtered after he registered what Harry said. "But- We are in danger, a mob—"

All Harry did was point a clawed finger at something in the distance. Following the pointer, Remus turned and blanched when he finally spotted what Harry pointed at. Even though they were so high up, he could clearly see the orange lights coming closer to the castle. But… that would mean…

He turned around and looked up at Harry. He knew. He knew all this time that they were in danger; that many people were trying to make their way into the castle… And he didn't move.

"You… You knew? But… Why-" 

"It doesn't matter now," Harry interrupted, his voice rippled in pain. Remus flinched when he heard it. It wasn't so long ago that he heard Harry speak in such a pained and defeated tone – he had heard it for seven years, after all. "Whether they come or not… it would not matter," he turned his face towards Remus – and under the light of the moon, the mantle clock could clearly see the stormy look in his green eyes, full of unshed tears. "It is either they come and kill us where we stand, or the curse ends and all that would be left in the castle would be a bunch of antiques and a monster."

His green eyes stared down at the spectacle before him, "So for such a large mob to come here reeking with bloodlust… Well," he sighed as he closed his eyes, "I think it is a sign that the Enchantress may have decided to give us… mercy." His eyes sharpened as he finally started to hear the chants, "So just let them come. After all… no matter what may happen, know this,"

Harry turned his green eyes at Remus, who was now rooted by the intensity he could see in those orbs, "By the end of the day… Our suffering will end."

Hearing those words being said so surely… Remus balled his handle. He had enough! He had spent too many years stuck in this Merlin-forsaken body to have Harry give up towards the end. He glared back at Harry, his gears audibly going into overdrive.

"… So you just want to give up?" He glared. "So this is what you have been amounted to? A love-sick fool who would just lie over and die than face the fact that the girl he loves does not love him in return? Honestly," he scoffed, as he turned away from the still silent Harry. "If someone were to look at you right now, no one would ever believe that _this _is the person who has defeated Lord Voldemort."

Silence enveloped the turret; even the wind stood still at Remus' words.

"You have defeated Voldemort, faced and cut down many of his followers." He continued, uncaring at how bitter his words may sound, "But in the end… It was all futile. Who would have thought that the _Great Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Man-Who-Prevailed _would succumb to _love _of all things?" He shook his frame as he looked up at the starry sky above. "Pathetic… absolutely pathetic."

He looked at Harry; whose eyes are now full of hurt. He did not want to say all of that, but these are words that needed to be said. "Look Harry," Remus said softly, "If you really love Hermione, then you have to know that wallowing in self-pity is not the way to go about showcasing your love." He sighed, a vision of pink curls and laughter flashed through his mind, "So please, don't make the same mistake I did," he turned his back and started to make his way to the door, "Fight for your love… before it is too late…. And maybe, you will be rewarded in turn."

"So… Are you willing to fight for that chance? No matter how small it may be?"

Remus caught his breath as he waited for Harry to say something – anything in return – but all he was met with was silence.

With a sigh, Remus continued to make his way back toward the foyer. It looks like they were on their own.

* * *

Finally reaching the last flight of stairs, the mantle clocked sighed. Although it had taken him longer to go up the castle than down, it still took too much time for him to finally reach the foyer. Glancing down from the grand staircase, his gears caught as he saw the spectacle before him.

Everyone in the staff had apparently struggled to maintain the barricade against the main door. The hinges of the door seemed to be struggling to hold the force exerted on it – from the sounds of it, the mob have opted to used a battering ram to force it open. Hearing the chants and yells from the other side, he looked down. Seeing how everyone has gathered in the foyer – the news must have traveled all over the castle in his absence – he coughed loudly.

Everyone was so focused on the thuds and bangs against the door in question, that the only ones who heard the sound he made were Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. He winced when he spotted the panicked look she threw his way only to widen her eyes when she saw who it was that interrupted them.

"Did you ask? What did he--?"

Remus shook his head, interrupting Mrs. Weasley's tirade, "He doesn't want to do anything about it. He just…" he gulped, "He had just given up. I don't think we would be able to get to him in time."

Mrs. Weasley's colors paled, "But what are we going to do now? They will break through what little protections we have made in a matter of minutes. What can we do--?"

Sirius hit one of his arms against the stone floor. The loud metallic clank halted the pandemonium coursing through the room. Silence finally enveloped the area.

Seeing how everyone now had his attention, the candelabrum cleared his throat. "We have no time to panic. We have to act." He glanced at his beloved feather duster, which was hovering near the ceiling, "It is up to us to defend ourselves against the horde outside. Marlene, please be a dear and tell Fred and George that it is time."

"Time?" Mrs. Weasley said, steam starting to go out of her nose, "You want to _involve _them in this? They are my children! I forbid them to have anything to do with this!"

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, "Molly, there is no _time _to think about sentimentalities. We are in danger, and forgive me for being blunt but they are the only chance we have to get out of this unscathed. They are men in their own right and you have no say in whatever they decide to do. Now," he turned his back to the teapot, ignoring her sputtered retorts, "_May I have everyone's attention! If you may please quickly get into a line!_"

All of the other furniture scrambled to get into line. Just as the last armchair stood at attention, Fred and George barged into the room, laughing. Marlene flew behind them, holding a large sack. Sirius grinned as he saw the corner of an oh-so-familiar bag of flour dangling from the very top.

This is perfect.

"Soldiers, your work is appreciated," he said, grinning at the two teacups who stood up straighter – at least, as straight as they could. He crouched down, and stared at them seriously, "Now, I already know the answer to what I am about to ask, but please humor me. Do you want to help us in this little fight," he said, gesturing at the direction of the sounds which were getting louder by the minute, "or would you rather go deeper in the castle to be safe from all of the fighting?"

Fred and George glanced at each other. After a long tense second, they nodded and faced Sirius once more.

"We would rather stay and help."

"It does not seem fair for us to hide like cowards when everyone else is fighting."

With that, they nodded, much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin. Sirius gave the teapot a small smile, "You heard the gentlemen Molly."

Mrs. Weasley sniffed, "Oh alright… But-" she said, interrupting the whoop of celebration the two teacups were doing, "-you boys better be careful alright? I do _not _want to collect your broken pieces once this is done."

They both nodded as they made their way to the large sack, whispering loudly as they started to take items out of it. Sirius gently hugged Mrs. Weasley, ignoring her barely audible sob, "You did the right thing. Hard, but right."

With that, he pulled away and started to head in the direction of the line of eager furniture.

They may be household objects at the moment, and the curse may close upon them soon, but he still held onto hope that they will all get the happy ending they deserve.


	31. Chapter XXX

Draco stood among the crowd as the battering ram was struck against the door. The crowd, so focused on entering the castle, did not notice their hero's attention wavering away from them. Although he had been skeptical when he heard Hermione's and Richard's tale about the castle, now as he was standing in front of the massive castle, he cannot help but eye the structure in interest. It was so large… So grand… that he knew, without a shadow of doubt that after today, he will make this massive home his.

Once he married Hermione, he will leave his father's mansion and move here. After all, who else would deserve the honor of residing in this castle but the person who had defeated the monster that lived in it? It may even be the perfect reason and incentive for the Ministry to award him another Order of Merlin. If he plays it right, maybe he could even make them give him an Order of Merlin First Class? Draco licked his lips as he thought about it. Yes, with a few charms here and there, he'd be able to have sufficient witnesses to vouch for him as proof of his bravery and selflessness.

The battering ram continued to smash against the closed door. He clicked his tongue, staring at the villagers in pity. They have been going at it for almost thirty minutes now, and no one even bothered to use their wand against this thing? Why didn't anyone cast a _finite_? He sighed. Well… There is only one person who could fix this…

Walking confidently to the front of the mob, he raised his wand and cast a quick _finite _just as the people holding the battering ram reared backwards to hit it one more time. He smiled as he heard the telltale sounds of locks and bolts slide open one by one, from top to bottom. Good, Draco thought as the door finally unlocked itself, one more hit and they will be in.

Just as the battering ram smashed against the door one last time –

The door swinged open easily. The mob, who weren’t expecting the door to open so smoothly, tumbled inside, piled up on top of one another.

Draco quirked an eyebrow as he walked inside, torch held high in his hand. Glancing at the hand mirror, he saw that it still remained black. He furrowed his eyebrows; it seemed that its purpose had been fulfilled. It had been useful for navigating the forest to reach the hidden path, but ever since they entered the courtyard, it had turned black and hasn't worked for him since. A shame, he thought. It could have been sold for a pretty coin once all is said and done.

Carelessly throwing the hand mirror on the ground, Draco continued to walk further into the castle, his grey eyes curiously appreciating the exquisite furniture.

Walking past the hand mirror, his eyes never saw it glow softly with a golden light, before fading into stardust…

Ron followed, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Unlike Draco, who appeared unfazed by the silence, he cannot help but feel a chill walk up his spine. As if there was someone… watching him from the shadows…

He looked around, waving his torch to try to see into the dark corners of the room. "Aren't you the least bit concerned," he asked Draco, "that this castle might be haunted?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Haunted? Don't make him laugh. "If this place were haunted, we would have seen a ghost by now." He said, pointedly admiring the lavish entrance. "There is no need to worry. The only danger we have is that _monster _that have shackled Hermione's free will." He chuckled as the rest of the villagers started to pour into the castle, "Unless you are scared of the dark?"

The rest of the villagers knew there was something… off about the castle. As the villagers looked around the area, slowly making their way into the castle, they were overcome by a strong feeling of déjà vu. They… have been there before, haven't they? Those walls… those stairs… even the courtyard they passed… it was as if…

"I have been here before…" murmured Mr. Weasley as he curiously looked around.

Headmaster Snape, who had been following the mob in silence, sneered at a lone candelabrum, "For some reason… I feel like throwing this into the hearth. It… infuriates me."

The candelabrum's eyes opened, "Well, you infuriate me even more, _Snivellus_. What, you _still _haven't learned to take a bath eh? ATTACK!"

Chairs kicked the shins of several villagers. Marlene and the other feather dusters waved their feathers in the villagers faces; filled with sneezing power, they were quickly down for the count as they struggled to breathe.

Candlesticks skittered below, shooting their flames high into the air, blinding some and burning others. In the haze of shock, Sirius gleefully managed to light Snape's oily hair on fire; there was no chance of recovery as his black hair burnt.

Fred and George cheerfully poured potion brews on unsuspecting villagers as they ran into the castle. Whilst hanging on top of the entryway, they managed to transfigure a dozen of them into large yellow canaries. They ran away squawking into the night; they never realized that the effects of the transformation didn't even last for a whole minute.

A teapot, on the other hand, was hanging by the center chandelier by the handle. Filled with thinned Bubotuber Pus – Merlin knows how the twins managed to procure that while in the castle.

A slew of villagers ran away in pain. Those who were hit in the head by the arms that were holding the lights outside the castle door. They are alive after all...

Some of the villagers tried to hex and curse the staff away, but no matter what they did, it was no use; the objects were resistant to magic. The staff, realizing this, threw away all signs of caution and went on the offensive.

As they continued to attack the invaders with everything they've got, Draco stood there as he tried to make sense of what was going on. All he expected to do when he entered was find the beast, kill the beast, go back to the village and force Hermione to comply with his wishes. He never expected that the castle would be filled with enchanted objects. Staring at the carnage in front of him, he cannot help but try to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

Some villagers sprouted heavy antlers and were unable to hold them up. Others were transfigured into giant canaries; most opted to run out cawing into the night while others apparently learned how to fly and were attempting to fly out the high windows – they fell down before they managed to reach that far. Even the esteemed Madame Umbridge was not spared, as she hopped around like a toad, still wearing her pink cardigan.

Draco stood there. He took a minute to compose himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It does not matter. Nobody matters. All he was here for was to kill the Beast. All those… _things_ could be handled by the other villagers. Blankly watching as another one attempted to fly to freedom, he nodded. Yes, they could definitely handle them.

He started to make his way to the grand staircase, sidestepping another villager who was groaning on the ground burdened by antlers. As he was about to take the first step, he heard Ron's voice calling out to him.

"Draco! Look out!"

Hearing Ron's warning cry, Draco turned to see a tall coattail pulling back one of its 'arms' preparing to hit him. He didn't think. The next thing he knew, he had grabbed his friend by the collar and proceeded to use him as a human shield. He was hit in the face, and stunned by the abrupt movement; fallen to the ground, he groaned beside the antler-man. 

Draco saw all that and didn't budge. Coldly looked down his nose at his fallen 'friend', he scoffed and turned his back, not bothering to help him up. He had outlived his usefulness after all. Once everything is said and done, he will make sure that his 'friend' will suffer a tragic 'accident'. No need to have someone who knew all his secrets to walk around after all.

Racing up the grand staircase, the noise of battle faded behind him. He kept climbing, ignoring all of the screams and yelps of the people he left behind. His battle was somewhere ahead; he knew it. Now… he thought as he stared ran up the west staircase – all he had to do was forage forward until he finds his challenge. But now… as he eyes two flights of stairs, one on the left and the other on the right, he wonders… _which one should he go up to?_

Running up another flight of stairs, he managed to spot a lone mantle clock walking grimly down from the direction of the main turret. It seemed his prayers were being answered. "Well well... what do we have here," he drawled, startling the mantle clock, "Is there a beast up there?"

Remus stiffened. Without meaning to, he had given away Harry's position. He reached for the wolf on his front and was about to unleash it on the man, but it was too late. For Draco swung his leg back and kicked the mantle clock down the stairs. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to make it disappear out of sights.

His grey eyes set his sight on the turret stairs. He is close, he can feel it. His wand started to vibrate in his hand, his magic stirring restlessly in his core.

Yes… Somewhere up those flights of stairs… He will face the Beast.

And afterwards… _she _will be his. 

Walking up the stone steps, eyes on his prize, he never noticed a lone crow perched on a windowsill, watching his ascension with eerie grey eyes…

* * *

Far below the turret, the household furniture continued to fight against the villagers. Mrs. Weasley had at this point, decided to change tactics. Everyone seems to be trying to make their way up the staircase. So, instead of hanging on the chandelier near the entrance, she instead decided to hang on the one above the raised platform. Concentrating, she instead started to pour hot boiling water out of her frame; the production of Bubotuber pus having drained her somewhat. Smiling as another batch fell down the stairs, she glanced over where her boys were working. They now decided to perch themselves on both sides of the railings, and have decided to throw flour – of all things – on those who were trying to reach the underside of the grand staircase. So far, no one managed to pass through. Smiling in pride she continued to pour water on the ground.

Unbeknownst to anyone, however, a new figure was calmly making her way through the chaos: Luna 'Loony' Lovegood, the village crazy lady. Though she wore her usual rags, she looked different than she normally did. A pale woman with blond tresses trailing behind her; her grey eyes looking straight ahead, never flinching. Her pale face, once matted with dirt and grime, is now clean and blemish-free.

Objects flew around her, liquid pouring in front of her and yet… Nothing touched her. In fact, if anyone of the staff saw her pass, they would have known instantly _who she was_… But no one did. Obscured from the eyes of many, she walked calmly past the droves of fighting villagers and objects and ascended the staircase, making her way up to the West Wing…

Just as Luna disappeared into the darkness of one of the staircases, Remus finally managed to make his way back to the lounge. It hurt to be kicked down the stairs; he knew that Harry was in danger, but there is nothing he could do about it. For now, all he could do was assist the ones who were fighting down below. So instead of making his way to the foyer, he instead made his way to a very familiar room. After all, she _is _the one who had been cursed with the largest frame…

After taking another detour to the library, both Remus and his… reinforcement prepared themselves for the fight ahead. Collecting as many heavy tomes as they could they quickly made their way to the grand staircase. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Although both sides were faring rather spectacularly, it is obvious that their side is being pushed back. Even now, he could see Mrs. Weasley struggling to pour the water out of her frame. At the rate she is going, it is only a matter of time until she falls.

Clenching a handle, he glanced up at his reinforcement – Lavender – and nodded. Opening her drawers, dozens of books started to levitate out of them, stacking neatly on top of each other. Remus nodded, and without another word closed his eyes and started to levitate the books. Opening his eyes, they narrowed when he spotted a dozen villagers attempting to sneak past them through the dining hall. Focusing on them, the books unceremoniously rocketed down into the fray, thwacking villager after villager. 

Lavender, on the other hand, decided to use her endless supply of fabric to tie up as many villagers into a ball before rolling them down the grand staircase and out through the front door.

Ron had at this point woken up. He had silently watched as the many household objects fought together to face against the rest of the villagers. The ease of which they maneuvered around each other, the trust they had as they defended each other's back… _This _is what he wanted. All his life, he wanted someone who would care for him, for someone who would trust him – and he in return. And he did try… But time after time he kept being discarded for someone better, for someone smarter… And now, as his eyes blurred with tears, he realized that that may never actually happen. That maybe… He does not deserve to be treated with such consideration? For Draco to discard him so _easily… _Maybe…

Before he was able to finish that thought, he blinked when he heard a screech coming from above him. His ears barely registered the countless shouts, barely heard oh-so-familiar cries coming from two different directions. All his brain could comprehend is the scream of someone – another familiar voice, one he thought he would never hear again – descending from above. Looking up, he was able to catch a falling teapot just before it fell to the ground, which would have shattered it into hundreds of pieces.

Mrs. Weasley blinked. She was sure that she was about to die. If she had fallen on the ground, there was no way she would have survived such a fall. So for someone to actually catch her… She looked up, and she was shocked to see one of her boys, one of her _sons_, her _youngest son_ right in front of her. She tried to open her mouth, tried to say something, _anything… _but someone was lodged in her throat. She cannot say the words she wanted to say, and so, the only thing she was able to do was weep.

Ron though did not know. But to hear the sounds of her cries… It hurt. "Hey… don't cry," Ron pleaded, as he quickly moved to a secluded corner, "There is nothing to cry about. I know that… the fall could have killed you… so please, for the rest of the fight, could you stay somewhere on the ground?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded and gave her son a wobbly smile. "Yes… I'll do that," she said, a little bit shocked that she was able to say something to her boy, "thank you."

Ron shook his head, "No, _thank you_. I am sure that, if it weren't for what happened, I would have been sure that I would never be able to… to…" he took a deep shaky breath. "You… Understand?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I understand, yes." She said, smiling. "Now, shall we get back to it?"

Ron smiled and nodded. As he watched the odd teapot hobble off to help the others, Ron took a steadying deep breath. For the first time in what felt like forever, he finally felt… free. How odd. For so long he felt weak… shackled. Forced to conform to whatever his friend had wanted.

He tried to change, he really did, but whenever Draco used to do questionable things, he always brushed it off, too scared to think of what it would mean for him to follow such an unstable person. He always thought that maybe, if he followed Draco enough, he would be able to gain a sense of … independence. Of purpose.

He met Draco during a hard time in his life. Although he may always be grateful to what he had done… He had to accept, that maybe, that phase of his life is over.

A sense of calm washed over Ron as he peered around the foyer. Only a few villagers remained inside. Most had run away, and those who remained were being funneled by a large talking candelabrum and an army of candles. For a second, he thought he was going to be the next one to be catered out, but it seemed that no one wanted to bother to do so. It was as if… through some odd reason; he was considered one of them. Although he had come with the rest of the villagers, following Draco dutifully without a word, they did not count him as one with the rest of the villagers. It is… humbling.

He tried to suppress a smile as he watched the front door slammed shut behind the last stragglers. He truly did. But when they all started to cheer and dance in the foyer for a job well done, he cannot help but laugh at their antics.

It is such a nice feeling – being free.


	32. Chapter XXXI

As Hermione galloped through the woods on Buckbeak’s back, a small smile graced her lips. Although she had a wand, the walls of the carriage were severely warded against any sort of magic. It was funny, she thought, that in the end, they have managed to escape by picking the lock. It seemed that no one would ever think to manually dismantle the carriage.

Shaking her head, she pushed Buckbeak forward, darting through the thick trees. They managed to get out of the carriage an hour after everyone left. She could only hope that she would be able to get back in time to the castle. Hermione didn't want to imagine what Draco and his bloodthirsty mob might do if they came face to face with Harry.

She barely felt the time pass, and the next thing she knew, she had finally reached the hidden path. She never faltered as the horse leaped over the remains of the discarded cart. It does not matter. There is no time. Nothing matters now; all that is left is to reach the castle and find Harry.

Galloping past the frozen pond; she didn't notice her winged sphere start to glow. It was only when they had ridden through the castle gates that she registered the heat coming from the orb. Grasping it in her hand, and feeling it cool down, she sped through the courtyard.

She heard people shouting and saw villagers running past her. Her heart stopped when she saw the ruined courtyard and the destroyed colonnade. They couldn't—everyone—they can't have _lost_—

As soon as the thought passed through her brain, it stopped. Her eyes widened when she suddenly realized that the villagers were running _out _of the castle. 

Hope flared in her chest. For the villagers to be running _away_… It only means one thing…

Mid-sigh, her breath caught as she spotted something… odd escaping the castle. Hermione blinked. Yes, she wasn't mistaken. She just saw a massive yellow canary fly overhead. Her eyes followed the birds' flight over the trees until it was out of sight. Staring ahead, she let out a small gasp as she saw a huge toad wearing an overly-familiar pink cardigan hopping in her path. Bracing herself, she tightened her hands on the reigns. Buckbeak leaped over the croaking toad, for a moment hovering in mid-air. The next second, gravity caught up and the horse landed safely on the other side.

She smiled when she finally caught sight of the familiar castle doors. She jumped off the horse and ran up the stone steps, sidestepping a fleeing villager who literally ran away with his tail behind his legs. She saw the entrance of the castle close just as she managed to reach the top step. Her heart stuck in her throat, she dashed over to the direction of the door.

Hearing the muffled cheers from the other side, Hermione grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open. Seeing the sight before her, she felt a swell of pride bloom in her chest. She made it.

Everyone was dancing and singing in the chaotic room. She can see Sirius and Marlene dancing and chanting something about a Snivellus. Fred and George emitting small fireworks out of their rim under the watchful eye of Mrs. Weasley. She was even shocked and also confused to see Lavender among the small crowd, standing close to one Ronald Weasley chatting in a low tune. Remus stood off to the side glaring at her from a distance, though a smile graced his lips whenever his eyes glanced at everyone who were cheering and congratulating each other in the foyer.

Looking around, a foreboding feeling started to swell when she realized something was wrong. That something is missing.

That _Harry _was missing. Her red face paled and without a single thought, she raced up the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she ran deeper in the castle, down another corridor, the orb in her chest started to flutter and glow. Her eyes widened when she noticed it start to guide her through the castle, almost as if it knew where she wanted to go. Following the direction of the small orb, she cannot help but think about all of the reasons Harry wasn't downstairs with the rest of the staff. The only possibility she could think of… that her heart knew it was true… was that Draco somehow escaped the battle and decided to confront Harry himself.

She did not want to even think of it, but it was the most likely possibility. From her own experiences with Draco… From what little her father managed to tell her about his misadventures with the blond man in the forest… She knew he was dangerous.

For some reason he wanted to possess her and he would allow nothing to come in his way between him and his prize – _her_. She remembered those cold eyes when he warned her not to cross him, remembered how those eyes saw _through _her. Hermione never would have thought that Draco would fall so hard, that he would try to do _anything _just to have her; and if one tactic did not work, he would try another and another and _another_… It was as if she was some conquest, some Merlin-forsaken challenge, and his prize once he wins.

But now… Draco had put it in his mind that _Harry _was the one who is stopping him from winning her. When he raised his wand and threw that spell at her, she thought that was the end of it. With barely any time to react, he shot it at her, only for the orb to protect her once again. She thought that would be the last of his attempts, but for him to think that Harry was the one who had protected her from his influence… filled her with dread.

She has no time to waste. Hermione was sure that if Draco were to find Harry, that he would kill him.

Her eyes were filled with tears as she stumbled on the top step. She knew that if Harry was gone… she would have no one to blame but herself.

Wiping her tears, she stood up and continued to run forward. No. There is still time. She had a small inkling as to where Harry was when she showed the mirror to Draco. She recognized the stone statues that lined the castles highest turrets. She didn't know which one, but with the orb guiding her on the right path, she had a pretty strong feeling that she would find him quickly.

Picking up the pace, she plunged down the long hallway and onto the walkway that led to the tower. Then she skidded to a stop.

She had been right. Harry and Draco were on the balcony. Taking a steadying breath, she slowly made her way towards them, making sure not to make a single sound. 

She could still hear what they were saying though…

* * *

"Hello, _Beast_. I am Draco, Hermione's fiancé," the blond man said smugly. Harry sensed his presence… sensed the danger… but opted not to do anything. Hearing those words come out of _Draco's _mouth, he stiffened as if he felt a knife had been stabbed straight through his heart.

That reaction did not get passed Draco's shrewd eyes. "She sent me here you know. Said that she had managed to trick you into letting her go by telling stories to make you pity her. A shame," he said as he shook his head, taking great satisfaction at inflicting all this pain, "that she wouldn't see your gory end. She is at home, did you know? Being comforted by my mother from the ordeal you had made her go through. Said that she would have _loved _to see your face once you realize her deception," He grinned as he slowly walked forward, his wand still trained on the figure before him. "I offered to share with her the memory of your death. She was _most _thrilled."

Harry felt cold. To hear all about what _Hermione_ supposed to have said knocked him over. He couldn't believe it. His mind does not commute it, but his heart said otherwise. After all… she left in the end… right? Maybe the snitch was wrong. Maybe he only imagined it in a haze of longing.

His eyes misted as he thought of her amber eyes… her beautiful smile… that adorable way she frowned when she doesn't understand something… the crackle of magic that coursed through her hair when she is agitated and angry… that soft look in her eyes when she thinks no one is watching. All those moments they had with each other… the good and the bad… it was all for naught… wasn't it? When given the chance, she still left.

He closed his eyes. There was no hope left. He turned away from Draco's line of sight, turning his back to him.

Draco laughed mockingly, "What, did you _really _think she'd want you? That she'd fall in _love _with you?" he scoffed, "Don't make me laugh. What would she see in you? You are nothing but a beast, with nothing to offer. Honestly," he taunted, "it would be considered an act of mercy to put you down. Best not prolong your misery."

He raised his wand, about to utter a single word—

— When a force hit his back, throwing his aim. The curse still left his wand, but instead of hitting his intended target, it instead hit the ground below it.

Harry, not expecting this turn of events, instinctually broke his fall. Claws scraping the slanted rooftop, he held on for dear life, heaving at the unexpected motion.

Draco looked down over the edge of the turret. This is good, he thought. He saw how much Hermione cared for the Beast. With this situation… he can easily twist the story when he tells her. _It was so tragic Hermione_, Draco thought as he aimed his wand at the precariously hanging Beast, _how distraught he was. The moment he knew we were going to get married, he decided to leap to his death rather than accept it. _

He was about to utter another spell—

— Just as his wand flew out of his grasp. Draco sneered as he spun around, only to find a wand aimed at him.

"Hermione dear," Draco said, plastering a smile on his face, "what are you doing here? I thought you would be at home, with my _mother_, planning our _wedding_?"

"Wedding?" Hermione scoffed, her wild hair twisting in the breeze, "Don't make me laugh. I told you once, and I will tell you again," she said as she slowly walked forward, "_I will NEVER marry you!"_ With that, she quickly flicked her wrist, and before Draco was able to do anything, "_infecunditatem permanens_!"

Draco wasn't able to dodge as the hot pink spell hit his chest. He doubled over in pain as a weird feeling coursed through his whole body. "What have you done to me?!" he sneered, glaring at Hermione with a mad look in his eyes.

"Oh. That?" Hermione said as she tucked her wand away and tried to appear unfazed from the dark look sent her way. "I just solved a problem you had. I told you time and time again, that I will _never _marry you. That I'll _never _be the mother of your children." She gave him a tight smile, "I removed one of your problems." Hermione laughed at the confused look on his face, "You _really _never bothered to broaden your knowledge, do you? Let me simplify it for you: I have cursed you." She smirked at Draco's wild shocked look, "You will _never _be able to have children again."

Draco scowled once the words sunk in. Never have children? Him; the Heir of the Malfoy name, barren? That is a bad joke. "No, you must be lying," he said as the pain finally started to subside. Standing up he took a deep breath. This… deviated his plans slightly, but it was of no consequence. He tilted his head as a random thought came to his mind, "You know you just made things harder for yourself… right?" A serious and cold look passed over his face, "Now this is what is going to happen. I will kill the Beast, destroy that locket, charm you and discipline you the way I like it, make you love me, marry me and then…" he said cocking his head, "I will force you to remove the curse."

Hermione shook her head, "There is no way I would ever love you Draco."

Draco's face transformed right before her eyes. Gone was the boyishly handsome face of the ever-so-loved village good boy. The man standing in front of her had finally revealed himself as the true monster he was. He pulled his head back, cackling in the silence of the night. It sent goosebumps up her spine.

"Well…" Draco said after he had regained some semblance of composure, "How quaint. Who would have thought that such a 'Beauty' would love a 'Beast'?" He shook his head, muttering all the while, "If you would rather love him than me, then maybe I really _did _make a mistake when I chose you. But no matter," he smiled a hideously ugly smiled marred his face, "If you would rather have _him _than _me…" _he said as he stood up and brushed the dust off his coat, "then it would be best to get rid of you to remove all of your stains off me."

And suddenly, Draco lunged towards Hermione, his intentions to wrap his hands around her neck clear. She wasn't able to respond. Wasn't able to do anything but stand there as Draco came at her with every intention to end her.

It did not work.

For as soon as he so much as grazed her skin, the sphere around her neck fluttered and pushed Draco off the edge of the turret. The golden shield shimmered in the light for a few moments before it dissipated.

And before she was able to do anything, Draco fell.


	33. Chapter XXXII

_Draco lunged towards Hermione, his intentions to wrap his hands around her neck clear. She wasn't able to respond. Wasn't able to do anything but stand there as Draco came at her with every intention to end her. _

_It did not work._

_For as soon as he so much as grazed her skin, the sphere around her neck fluttered and pushed Draco off the edge of the turret. The golden shield shimmered in the light for a few moments before it dissipated. _

_And before she was able to do anything, Draco fell. _

* * *

But before he would have fallen to his death, Draco managed to grab a stone gargoyle just in time to swing himself through a window below. With a grunt, he landed on the spiral staircase inside the turret. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and looked out the window, narrowing his eyes as he spotted Hermione running down another spiral staircase.

For the briefest moments, he thought that the fear and worry in her eyes was for him. But when he saw her eyes straying downwards, Draco bit his lips. He would have thought that with his fall, Hermione might finally learn to care for him and feel guilty for being the one to push him over the edge. But no… she was instead looking around, frantically searching for something.

The Beast, most likely.

Draco clenched his fist. No, there is no way he would be able to win against the monster if he did not have a wand. Because of Hermione, it is most likely laying on the ground somewhere, getting contaminated by the castles filth. He narrowed his eyes as he saw her run past another window, seemingly heading somewhere. He will deal with Hermione later once everything is said and done. For now… He needed to get his wand to kill the Beast.

He looked out the window, his cold eyes scanning the stone structures. Instantly, Draco was on his feet as he spotted his wand laying on a stone footbridge a few stories down; quickly running down the stairs.

He ignored Hermione's shout as he gave chase.

He ignored the cuts and bruises littering his face.

All that matters at the moment was for him to reach his wand. With a single-minded focus, he jumped down the side of the turret, his fingers scraping the side of the rough walls as he slid downward.

The walls of the castle were crumbling around him as he landed on a window box below. He looked around, only to see the Beast jump from a low turret onto another parapet. Even from a distance, he could see the Beast struggling to hold on as tiles slid away from his fingers.

He gritted his teeth. Glancing down at the footbridge he spotted his wand lying innocently atop of it. Draco's grey eyes flashed when he saw it. Oh… if only he had it on him, he would have been able to finish the Beast right then and there.

_Oh well_, Draco thought as he continued to make his way down the walls of the castle, a maniac grin spread across his face. _What is the difference between a second and a few minutes in the grand scheme of things? After all… _Draco thought as he caught the Beast wincing in pain.

_It is more fun to play with prey before killing it… right?_

* * *

Hermione ran as fast as she could, her bright yellow gown trailing behind her. For once, she was thankful that she managed to convince Lavender to design it to be as light as possible. She never expected to run so much, but as she leaped down onto another adjacent landing just as it started to crumble, she thanked her lucky stars that she managed to do so.

Bracing against her hands against her knees, Hermione jerkily looked up, her eyes quickly darting everywhere as she tried to see through the darkness. She knew Harry was alive – he had to be. For why else would Draco insist on killing Harry if it wasn't for that fact? Although he fell, the mere fact that Draco was insistent on chasing his wand only means one thing – that he was still alive.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back; her hand instinctively gripped the golden sphere as it fluttered against her chest. Bracing herself, she continued her sprint as she ran inside another turret, her eyes glancing at the platform she was standing on previously.

It was odd, how the castle seemed to be falling apart. Something is happening, but she doesn't know what. And right now she doesn't care. Steeling herself, she started to run down the staircase, stopping in front of every window. The time for mysteries and wonders has passed. All she wanted… all she needed… was Harry.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she finally reached the bottom of the staircase. Running out, she finds herself in a familiar corridor. Her eyes widened as she realized where she was. Through all the running and frantic searching, she had somehow managed to find her way into the hallway that led to the West Wing.

Without another thought, she yanked the door open and ran as fast as she could to the balcony. Feet crunching on the broken glass of the doors, she ran outside, her eyes frantically searching for Harry. He had to be there… he _had _to be. Amber eyes scanning the dark structures, she stopped when she saw something move from the corner of her eyes.

Whipping her head, she narrowed her eyebrows, trying to see through the darkness. It was only when she saw a figure jumping from one turret to the next that Hermione's breath caught.

It was him.

She let out a tearless sob as she saw Harry fly through the air, his arms stretched out in front of him to grab the side of the stone wall. Her heart stopped when he almost missed it… his grip slipping.

"No!"

* * *

Harry grits his teeth as he struggled not to cry out in pain. Somehow, when the floor beneath his feet broke, he didn't die as he expected but instead landed on one of the lower platforms. He was out of it for a few minutes, and although he wasn't able to move, he thought he heard Hermione's voice.

It sounded distant; as if he were hearing it while submerged in water, but hear it he did. He does not know what his imagination made her say, but the mere fact he _heard _her, even when he was about to be killed had to have been a sign. Although she left him, she had left something with him. Some… imprint engraved on his heart. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind him of all the times he had with her… All the times he spent with her.

She was here. Once upon a time, she had walked these walls, laughed with him, cried with him, fought with him… and dare he say it… _cared for him. _She left something in his heart and though he was hesitant and pushy at first; she still managed to break through the well-worn shield he had worn for years.

So… couldn't he hope to have somehow done the same thing with her? That somehow… _he _might have left an imprint on _her_?

It was that thought that made him run through the mazelike roof of the castle. It was that thought that gave him the energy to leap from parapet to parapet…

But as he struggled to hold on to the sidewall, his grip faltering, he closed his eyes. Maybe everything was too late… Maybe he really—

Through the chaotic and stormy thoughts reverberating in his mind, he heard a _voice. _

He heard the voice. One he is so familiar. It called him, painfully… longingly… echoing over the castle's roof. Harry's green eyes widened when he heard it. When he was laying on the crumbling platform, he was sure that his mind had been playing tricks on him. That somehow, through the haze of longing and pain, his mind conjured an echo of her, prompting him to keep moving.

So to hear her again, even when the world feels like it is falling apart…

He turned around, trying to spot her. For a second, Harry thought that maybe that blond man had been playing tricks on him, luring him out of his hiding spot. But when he saw the vision before him, still wearing that beautiful yellow dress, her hair fluttering behind her in the breeze, her gorgeous eyes brimming with tears as she caught his gaze… his heart stopped.

She came back. She actually came back... He thought she would take advantage of her freedom and never return. Though they had shared so much time with each other, a small part of him believed that she would turn her back to him at the first chance she had. He let her go, fully aware that he could do nothing to keep her here.

So for Hermione to willingly be here, standing before him with a painfully relieved expression… His eyes glistened. He had hoped that she cared for him. Hoped even after the blond man threw those barbs at him, that she would return. To him.

And in the end… she did, but after what?

Guilt twisted in his gut as the thought passed through his mind. He had doubted her… Doubted the love she had for him even though it shone around her neck. He bit his lip. He had so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things he forgot to tell her…

At that moment, as his green eyes clashed with hers, Harry felt stronger than ever before. She was here, in his castle. Pulling himself up to safety, his eyes never broke their connection as he tried to make his way back to her, leaping from parapet to parapet.

The next time he stands before her, he will tell her, and once he does, nothing is going to come between them again.

* * *

Draco sneered as he watched the display, shivering in disgust when Hermione called for the Beast. It is very obvious that Hermione 'loves' the Beast, and that in itself was something Draco could not comprehend. How could a beautiful girl like Hermione fall in love with such a revolting and vile creature? It does not make sense.

Lurking in the shadows, his eyes darkened as he watched the byplay between the woman and beast. Draco sneered when the Beast seemed to revive suddenly at the sight of Hermione, who was standing at a balcony nearby. A sinister smile started to grow on his face. Yes… the game is not over yet. He still has the upper hand. Although his wand might not be on him, that does not mean that the Beast has a chance to win this battle.

He has been weakened, injured from the fall he took when the ground exploded beneath his feet. If he can plan this right… wand or no wand, he will still be able to defeat the Beast, and seeing how the Beast seems to be heading towards Hermione… an opportunity might show itself.

Draco's eyes roamed around the area, searching for a weapon. Seeing a thin stone spire close to him, he wrapped his hands around the cold stone and pulled it until it broke off. Once again armed, Draco waited for the Beast to come to him, knowing that it will head to Hermione.

_Soon_, he thought as he gripped the spire tightly in his hand,_ your head will be on my wall… Beast._

* * *

Harry, in his intense focus on reaching Hermione, did not bother to look around as he landed on the gargoyle-lined walkway. He was so close; just a couple of more leaps, and he will reach Hermione. So focused on reaching his destination that he ignored the warning bells ringing in his head.

Taking a few steps, he was just about to head in Hermione's direction when he felt a heavy force cracking down on his back. He roared in pain, but when he closed his eyes, Hermione's tear-filled visage passed through his mind. _No, he had to make it. He had to reach Hermione._ These words repeated in his head like a mantra and through sheer force of will, he stood up, brushing off the pain coursing through his body.

It hurt, sure… but he promised.

_Nothing is going to come between Hermione and himself…_

_No matter what._

* * *

Draco narrowed his eyes as he continued his assault on the Beast’s back. No matter how many times he hit him, he always continued to stand up, ignoring everything he was inflicting upon him. In fact, if it wasn't for the small pained sounds coming from the creature, he would have thought that it did not feel what he was doing to it.

He felt another rush of anger. He was trying so hard, hitting the Beast with everything he had, and it still did not die. Just why… why wouldn't he just, "_stay down already!"_ He shouted, swinging the spire harder against the creature’s back. The Beast, with that one hit, finally staggered down a set of stairs onto the landing of a stone footbridge.

Finally seeing a change in the Beast, he smiled maniacally as he jumped down, continuing his assault on its back. Nothing else mattered right now. All that matters was for him to put the beast down like the animal it is.

Under the combined weight of Draco and the Beast, the footbridge which had not been used in years began to shake and crumble. Draco did not notice it though. While continuing his assault, something caught his eye as he raised the battered spire higher in the air. His eyes widened. For laying a few feet away, on the snow-covered footbridge, was his wand.

Draco lifted the spire high, readying himself to deliver the final death blow when in one swift move, the spire was yanked out of his hand. Grey eyes widened as the spire was thrown against the far off wall, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Falling backward, he scrambled back, his pale face turning white as the beast stood up, looming over him. Snarling, the Beast wrapped his paws around Draco's throat and swung him over the edge of the crumbling footbridge, his legs dangling in the open air.

"No, don't let me go," Draco pleaded to the Beast, his eyes darting at the sheer drop, "I'll do anything. Just please… don't hurt me."

* * *

Harry stared at the squirming pathetic blond man in his grasp. This man… honestly thinks he would show him _mercy _after everything he had done to him? He sprouted lies, attacked him in his home, and continuously degraded him, and he expected him to, what, _forgive him_? Let him _go?_ His green eyes flashed; no, he will not forgive this idiot!

This sorry excuse of a man tried his hardest to prevent him from reaching Hermione, and that… is unforgivable.

Tightening his hold, Harry's features were twisted with rage and hate and he straightened his arm, on the verge of throwing this despicable man off the deep end…until he saw her. His green eyes widened when he saw Hermione standing on the balcony nearby, looking at him with hope in her eyes. Staring through her amber orbs, he took a deep breath and started to calm down, remembering his main purpose.

For so long, he thought of himself as a beast, a monster with no irredeemable qualities. He felt so lost… so scared when he was cursed. As time passed, his hopes fell and he had given up on being human, hiding in his suite. He had long given up on ever becoming a man again. Then she came… so wild and different from any person he had ever seen before. She shone; a harsh light against the swirling darkness he was submerged in. It took time, but during the time she had spent with him, she slowly banished the darkness that clung to him like a second skin.

If it wasn't for her… He would have been lost in that abyss… He would have lost himself in the end.

She saved him, and protected him from the darkness within himself.

Now, as his gaze clashed with hers, he took a deep breath, steadying his heart. He had wasted too much time. It would be pointless to dip his toes in what he once was just to satisfy that dark monster in his chest.

It'll be a waste of time. 

Instead of spending time with her, what could have amounted as his last moments, he instead was distracted by this pathetic excuse of a man. Breaking the connection, Harry brought the whimpering man towards his face, staring intently into his grey eyes.

Sure that all of the attention is on him; he swung the man back over the bridge's wall and set him down. "Go," he growled, "Get out, and never come back."

As the man scrambled away, Harry turned and locked eyes with Hermione. His heart burst in his chest from the utter joy of seeing her so close, yet so far; a chasm separated them from each other.

All he wanted, more than anything else in the world, was to be next to Hermione. He had wasted enough time. He had to tell her how he feels before it was too late.

Harry glanced around, noticing that most of the castle bridges have collapsed sometime during his confrontation with the man. Dropping onto all fours, he braced himself. It would take too much time for him to find another alternative route to the balcony. Narrowing his eyes, he tensed; he had just enough distance to get his speed up to make a leap from the bridge to the balcony – and Hermione.

Pushing his hind legs off the stone, he pushed off, gaining speed as he ran across the stone bridge. Hermione wasn't able to do or say anything, as he leaped off.

For a moment, Harry seemed to hover in mid-air, suspended over the chasm between the castle's roofs –

— and then time sped up, and with a thud, he managed to land safely on the balcony.

Harry rose up and smiled at the vision before him. He had finally made it. His green eyes drank her all in. She was here, in front of him. His eyes glistened when he saw the Golden Snitch resting comfortably around her neck. She really was…

He never completed his thought; as he took a step forward, stretching out his hand towards her—

"_Sectumsempra!" _

— Harry roared in pain as a white light hit him, slashing him at the back. It felt as if a sword had managed to slice through him; as it a hot fire started to course through his veins. Falling on the ground, blood seeping on the pure white snow, he struggled to stay awake. He heard a distant rumble and a scream fading into the silence, though he does not know where it came from.

And frankly, he does not care.

Harry grit his teeth, struggling to hold in a scream as a hand rolled his body over. Seeing Hermione's face hovering over him, his head on her lap, he gave her a wobbly smile. This… was not how he wanted it to end. All he wanted to do… was tell Hermione how he felt.

As he lay there on the cold floor, blood seeping on the pure white snow with his head on his love's lap…

Another petal fell…


	34. Chapter XXXIII

_As he lay there on the cold floor, blood seeping on the pure white snow with his head on his love's lap… _

_Another petal fell…_

* * *

Hermione wanted to believe that everything would be okay. That Harry will be okay. But as she sat down, his head cradled in her lap, she knew that time was running out. Wand in hand, it shook slightly as she tried to cast all the healing spells she knew… but it was to no avail. 

No matter what she did, no matter what she tried, the slash refused to heal. The blood continued to seep onto the floor, the white snow dyed red, and she couldn't do anything about it.

She felt useless… She can recite all of the books she knew by verbatim, could cast all of the counter-curses she knew, but with all of the books she had read, she had never heard of that slashing spell Draco had used. She tried different combinations, tried a variety of charms to try and stop the flow of blood… but it all failed.

What was the point of all the knowledge she knew, if she cannot use any of it to save the person she could never imagine living without? The person who had, in such a small amount of time, carved a small niche in her heart?

She wanted him to stay with her, alive and well. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for accidentally sending Draco here in the first place. Yet, as she looked down at him, she knew that her chance of doing so was quickly slipping away.

Hermione did consider to go and bring healing potions from the stock, but seeing Harry lying there, breathing heavily, she knew that wasn't a viable option. Tears filled her eyes; Hermione softly reached down and ran her fingers along his cheek.

When Harry felt her touch, he opened his eyes, his green ones noticeably dimmer than what it was before. Her heart clenched in her chest when she saw his eyes struggle to focus.

"Hey…" he said with difficulty, raising one of his hands to brush away a tear, "Please don't cry… I really… cannot stand it when someone so beautiful cries all over me. It makes me feel like…" he grunted, his eyes tinged in pain, "… like…"

"Harry… Please save your breath," Hermione softly said, gently ruffling his black unkempt fur, "it is taking too much energy for you to speak. I…" her breath hitched as she tried to hold back the tears, "If it wasn't for me… you wouldn't have been here, stuck in this situation in the first place." She took a steadying breath, "I swear, I tried to stop them, but… no one listened. I wasn't able to d-do anything!"

Harry smiled and tried to shake his head, but the moment he tried to move, it jostled his injury, making him grunt in pain. Hermione gasped and was in the process of raising her wand when he shook his head, "It wasn't your fault, I know… you would never do that."

"But…"

"No buts…" Harry said, lifting his paw and brushed back a lock of Hermione's hair "I… can we not talk about it? I… I…" He smiled a watery smile, his eyes tracing every single contour of Hermione's beautiful face, "I am just happy that you came back. That you cared enough to… to…"

"Of course I came back," she said, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. "I promise… I will never leave you again. It took me so long to find you, so you can be sure that from now on I will never allow you to be away from my sight."

Harry lifted his shoulders in the slightest shrug. His entire body was in too much pain. In fact, he can no longer feel his legs. Soon… he will be gone. "I… am sorry," he said, his voice weak, "I have caused you so much pain, so much misery in the short time you have been with me… I know I hurt you and your father so much…" he coughed lightly, and looked up at her pleadingly, "Would you forgive me? For everything I have done?"

"There is nothing you need to be forgiven for!" Hermione said, "I have forgiven you a very long time ago. You… you…"

He softly smiled, his vision started to blur, "Hey… What did I tell you about the tears?" 

"Sorry…" Hermione said, hastily wiping her eyes dry.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, but time was running out. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her. But… every time she tried to utter the words; they keep getting caught in her throat, refusing to pass by her lips.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream… But in the end, she wasn't able to do anything but sit there and watch as the light in his green eyes start to fade as the seconds pass.

"I…" Harry said his voice noticeably weaker, "I am afraid it's my turn to leave…"

Hermione shook her head, no… this cannot be happening. She wanted to scream, she wanted to curse… After everything they have been through… He'd just… just… Despite her best efforts, the tears started to fall. She had tried to hold it in for so long… but in the end, she couldn't do anything. Her heart was already breaking.

She could feel his head growing heavier in her lap. Here he was, fading right before her eyes… And there is nothing she could do about it. Struggling for words, Hermione choked back a sob. "We're together now," she finally said, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's going to be fine… You'll see."

"At least… I got to see you… One… Last… Time…" As Harry spoke, his paw dropped from Hermione's hair. His eyes closed. His breathing grew slower… and then it stopped altogether.

With another sob, Hermione threw herself over Harry's body.

He was gone…

… And she never told him she loved him.

* * *

As Harry was taking his last breath, his staff, on the other hand, was celebrating. After a long and perilous fight, they had finally managed to defeat the horde of angry villagers. It was hard when they were faced with so many familiar faces, staring at them with fear and disgust, but once the initial shock passed, everything sailed smoothly. 

They had all gathered on one of the lower terraces to watch the villagers run off through the woods. Sirius chuckled as he spotted a familiar-looking pink toad hopping in the distance. "Great job everyone! I must say… Fred and George really went all out. I wonder though, any reason why you were insistent in transfiguring Madame Umbridge into a toad?"

George, who was situated on the stone wall of the terrace laughed alongside his brother, "Whenever we were in trouble, she and Snape always seemed to have it out for us. Once, when we were in detention, she forced us to write lines using that ghastly quill of hers." He shivered; a slight frown marred his porcelain face.

Noticing his brothers' discomfort, Fred continued for him, "Always the same thing… Added to the fact that Snape threatened us with expulsion if we were to ever tell our parents about what she was doing to us… It was hell."

"It was a pure blessing that this punishment happened during our last term," Fred sighed, "Merlin knows what I would have done if I had to go and endure her torture for another day."

Sirius’ eyes widened in a mixture of anger and disbelief when he heard the tale. Who would have thought that the carefree duo suffered for so long under such an ugly piece of work? If he had known that about the pink-obsessed woman, he would have done something worse to her than just burning part of her skirt off. "Alright… sure. I understand why you did that to her," he said, gesturing at the still hopping pink blob, "But I still cannot understand why you transfigured her into a toad? Wouldn’t it have been cooler if you made her into something more unpleasant…? Like a slug?"

The two teacups glanced at each other and laughed. "Funny for you to say that – after we were done with school, we… uh…"

"Replaced all of the kitten portraits she had with toads. And filled her office with the slimiest ones we managed to find. Fresh from the river"

Sirius, hearing that, burst out laughing. "You two… are seriously the best-"

"Best?"

Sirius widened his eyes as he turned around, only to see Remus and Mrs. Weasley heading their way. "N-nothing. I was just complimenting the two boys on their brilliant work with the potions. Nothing more, nothing less…"

Remus frowned, "Sure…"

Sirius ignored his friend when he spotted the beautiful Marlene flying towards him. Her feathers were puffed and slightly dirty, but the look on her face was enough to make his mood soar. They did it, they finally won. Sirius laughed as he tenderly held his love in his arms, twirling her in place. "We did it, Marlene… we did it." He said softly as he leaned down to kiss her.

But… she didn't move. In fact, Marlene had instead gone stiff and silent in his arms. It only took a second… but the effect was there.

The curse…

"No… Marlene, please… speak to me…" Sirius sobs as he gently lowered Marlene to the ground. She was cold to the touch, and the feathers which were lively and puffy now hang listlessly on her frame.

His love was right there, laughing in his arms but a few moments ago. But now… all that remains of her…

… was a feather duster.

Sirius sobbed as a cold feeling started to run up and down his spine. He could feel it. It was only a matter of time for him to be affected. His flames, which were bright when dancing with the love of his life, started to dim ever so slowly; no matter how much magic he poured towards his candles… nothing changed.

Looking around, Sirius watched in horror as the once animate objects grew inanimate around him. Everyone he knew… started to fade away.

"How… Why could this happen?" Sirius said as he watched Lavender's movements slow down – her arms retracted and folded against her front just as the footlights inside her dim and died. Not so far away, he can hear the harpsichord's music slow down until it stopped altogether. Fang, the cowardly dog was whimpering and running in circles when he suddenly toppled over - motionless.

Remus smiled wryly as he looked around, his gears starting to grind ominously in his chest. He expected this; he knew that in the end, the curse won't be broken. He was right… so why did he feel disappointed? He saw the girl run inside the castle, he knew what she wanted to do – or at least, he thought he knew. Though now, as he watched his many colleagues and friends drop motionless on the ground, it is obvious he had been mistaken. He scoffed, "It is obvious… isn't it? The curse has finally taken its toll. The condition – or lack thereof – has been met."

The curse swept through the castle like a blowing wind; no matter how they tried to escape, the staff could not get away.

Mrs. Weasley, seeing how everyone around her started to fall, tried to hop as fast as she possibly could towards her two boys. She tried to reach them, desperate to be with them one last time. But as she was hopping near the edge of her tray, her features started to fade from the detailed design of the pot - with no direction, the now normal looking teapot fell over and rolled down the tray. Gravity taking over, she started to plummet and just before she hit the ground, Sirius managed to catch the pot. He gently placed her beside the two teacups – which had, without anyone noticing, become motionless.

Sirius looks around. No matter where he looked, none of the objects in his vicinity so much as moved.

It is only a matter of time now.

"Sirius…"

Hearing Remus' anguished voice, he turned around, dreading the inevitable. Seeing his friend struggling against the throes of the curse, a chill went up his frame. He could hear the gears within Remus' body grind against each other, could see the hands of the clock catching, struggling to stay ticking.

"No… not you too…" he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

"I… can't… Nothing… Could do…" Remus said, his voice growing weak. He gave a long, slow tick and an even slower tock. He was at the end of the line. He never thought he would ever die like this – his life force drained while he got stuck as a mantle clock. "I'm… scared…"

"Remus… it is okay. Everything… will be alright. You… You'll see." He smiled at his friend as he tried to convey his thoughts with his eyes. For a long moment, his eyes clashed with that of his friends, until he watched the light slowly fade from them. The wolves on the front, which were whining in apparent pain, froze just as Remus' body shuddered.

"Thank you… for everything… Siri…"

And with one last shudder, Remus' body stilled; his voice faded completely. The only sound now was that of a small clock. Sirius breathed in shakily as he stared at the mantle clock. Feeling a cold starting to settle in his body, he looked around seeing that _everyone _was an object now.

Only he was left.

With a bark of laughter, he shook his head. Guess this is it then. After everything that had happened, after everything they have tried, it still did not change the end result.

"No, Remus. Thank _you _for being there."

With a final bow, and as he glanced up at the castle's structure, he too stiffened. With a final twirl, the light faded from his candles as his final transformation took place.

Soon, the terrace was quiet except for the ticking off the clock that was once Remus. Snow started to fall from the sky, covering the objects and making them look like ghosts.

* * *

… _and with that, the final petal fell. _


	35. Chapter XXXIV

Up on the balcony, Hermione barely noticed the snow falling over her head and shoulders. She didn't know that the curse had been fully enacted. All she could think about was Harry, lying there languid in her arms. His body still felt warm, and his eyes were still closed. He looked peaceful and tranquil; if it wasn't for the blood seeping through the floor, she would have thought he was just asleep.

But she knew… oh she knew that it wasn't the case. That though she was hard-pressed to deny it, she had to accept the fact – that Harry… is dead.

Cradling his head in her hands, her fingers caressing his soft fur, for a desperate moment, she wanted to believe he was still there. She wanted to force his eyes open. To see his brilliant green eyes staring back at her.

For so long… she wanted someone to understand her, to truly appreciate everything she was. She wanted someone who had the same interests as her, someone who can challenge her, and in the end, inspire her to be a better person. In the end… she did find it in him. She had found everything that he was looking for in Harry.

Without her noticing, she gave away her heart, tentatively trusting him to hold onto it for her. She cared for him, more than anyone else in the world, so to see him like this… motionless in her arms was unfathomable.

"Please…" she pleaded; her eyes blurred from the tears. "Don't leave me… Come back." She tried, so hard to tell him how much she loved him, but whenever she opened her mouth to say the words, they remained stuck in her throat. Now, as she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, she steeled herself for what she was going to do.

Even if she lost her voice, even if she suffocates from the sheer force of it, she will say them. She never managed to say them while alive, but as she leaned forward, cradling his head in her hands, she finally whispered the words that had she had been carrying deep within her heart.

"I love you."

Though Hermione did not know it, Luna had been silently watching. She smiled when she heard the words uttered by her friend. Seeing the Golden Snitch, shine brilliantly around her neck, she knew that the time has come.

Raising her hand, she placed it on the bell jar – containing the now withered rose. Seeing the love in her friend's eyes, she twisted her hand. Ever so slowly the rose petals, which were frail and withered, rose from the surface they lay upon and floated upwards, gaining back its vitality the closer it came to the empty raised bud.

With a small push, the bell jar explodes into a cloud of golden dust, releasing a wave of rose petals whirling in the air. Swirling her hand, the rose petals multiplied in the air. A golden light begins to emanate from Luna, moving rapidly towards Harry enveloping him entirely before lifting him off the ground.

Feeling the weight of Harry's body lift from her lap, Hermione looked up and gasped, seeing the golden haze swirling around his body. She noticed the blood, which had spilled onto the stone floor; begin to rise towards Harry, slowly returning back towards his body. And before her very eyes, through the haze of golden light, she can see his wound, which had been jagged and open – close.

The once cold weather started to rapidly warm. The snow, which had covered the floor of the balcony, melted and evaporated, leaving nothing in its trace.

All this… Hermione did not notice. All her attention was on Harry, who was floating in the vortex of light and rose petals. Her eyes were affixed on the magical scene before her. She could hardly believe her eyes.

With a flash of light, and before her very eyes, Harry's paws turned into a hand. More bursts of light followed as the rest of Harry's features turned into human ones. The horns, which were affixed at the top of his head, retracted back into his skull. The tail, which swished onto the stone floor, disappeared in a flash of light. The black unkempt fur, that covered his whole body, rapidly disappeared as a tendril of light coursed through the surface, leaving only smooth skin in its place. All that remains of the f- the hair, now lay on top of his head, black and unkempt.

Just when the transformation was almost over, the light still twirling Harry's body in the air, a bright tendril of light coursed through his face, his fangs retracting back inside his mouth. And just when Hermione thought that everything has ended, a harsh beam of light rippled across his forehead, disappearing after a few seconds.

The previously clean and unblemished skin was now marred by a jagged and distinct lightning bolt scar.

Hermione backed away when the vortex started to guide Harry's body gently on the floor before it dissipated in a small explosion of light. The stardust, that had surrounded Harry for the last minute, now diffused through the floor, quickly passing through the walls of the castle.

The transformation… was complete.

For a long moment, Hermione stood there, her head spinning with what she had witnessed. She stared in awe at the man standing before her. His back was facing her, and she can see him looking at his hands, flexing his joints.

As if finally realizing he was not alone, the man turned around and stared at the woman before him. She gasped, for although the hair remained the same, everything else was different. He didn't look like the same person she had fallen in love with, but when her amber eyes clashed with familiar green, she gasped.

For those green eyes… they were _his_. She could never mistake those soul-deep bright green eyes with anyone else's. They were _Harry's_!

Hermione's heart felt like it would burst with joy. He looked different, sure, but those eyes… she cannot mistake them. They were his. She knew… deep in her soul, that the man before her was the Harry she had grown to love once again in his human form. The curse… must have broken.

Seeing him standing before her, with a million emotions swirling in his eyes, she knew she did not want to waste another moment not being close to the one she loved. He was standing right there, healthy and alive.

"Hermi—"

And the next thing she did was run over to Harry, hugging him for all that he was worth. She felt the warmth of his chest against her cheek, could hear the steadying heartbeat thud against her ear. Tears once again flooded her eyes. He was here, really here.

She let go of him once, but never again. She had left him before she was able to tell him how she feels. When he died in her arms, she cursed her hesitancy, and her inability to say the words that she desperately wanted to say.

Feeling his arms move and wrap around her figure, a blush exploded against her cheeks. She felt him lean down, his lips barely brushing the edges of her ear.

"You know…" Harry said, his voice sending tingles to run up and down his spine, "… I don't like it when you cry." He gently pushed Hermione back, staring down at her with an intense look in his eyes. "So… can you smile… for me?"

A burst of laughter escaped Hermione's chest, and as she opened her eyes, she did. A beautiful and dazzling smile graced her lips, leaving Harry momentarily speechless. He felt an urge come over him when he saw that smile on Hermione's face, saw the love shining through her eyes.

At one point, he had doubted this, doubted her. But as Harry looked down at the woman before him, he knew without a doubt that all of his wishes came true. She had the chance to run… but she didn't. She had the chance to leave him… but didn't. Looking down at her, and seeing the Golden Snitch resting comfortably around her neck, he knew without a doubt… that she truly and honestly loved him.

Green eyes met amber, and then, as dawn broke over the horizon, they leaned forward and kissed for the very first time...

It was a kiss Hermione would never forget – one better than in any of the books she had ever read. It was a kiss full of apology, gratitude, and love. It was a kiss full of passion, desire, and fulfilled longing. It was a kiss… full of promises for the future ahead.

And as they continued to kiss, lost in their little world… in that one moment, magic exploded from around them in a supernova – light emanating from them…

… to the rest of the castle.

* * *

As the light passed through every nook and crevice, the cold grey stone became awash with gold, lingering before continuing along its path. The debris, which had fallen sometime during the scuffle, rose up and transfixed itself back into place, looking as good as new. Bridges that had once fallen so long ago, rose from underneath the colossal amount of snow, sealed back into place by slivers of pure magical light. 

A shower of small lights fell from the sky, touching and healing the cold damaged walls and structures of the castle. Where the snow once touched the ground, fresh grass now sprung from the earth. Up on the parapets of the castle, where the scary and grotesque gargoyles once stood, transformed, revealing statues of noble knights and dragons. All of the dust and grime, which had accumulated over the years, fell. In its place – beautiful white stones.

Inside the castle, the light continued to move about, healing the old wounds and scars that have accumulated through the seven years. Nothing was left untouched – from the hallways, portraits, and even the discarded kitchenware. Everything that had been broken, everything that was once discarded now returned as good as new.

Once the light finished its course, it continued outwards, reaching the objects that had, only moments before, been rendered immobile. The first one to be touched was the piano bench. When a glimmer of light touched one of its feet, it transformed, revealing a black boarhound in its place. When the massive dog looked down and saw the light still touching its leg, it yelped and ran away, black tail between its legs.

Fang ran passed a massive blue wardrobe. The moment a tendril of light touched, it spun in place, clothes and ribbons flying everywhere. Once the little vortex of fabric flew into the air, it revealed a beautiful woman with long dirty blond hair and brown eyes. She gasped, falling onto the ground just as a red blur ran and collided with her. Her back against the floor, she looked up, only to see Ron hovering over her, a painfully happy expression on his face.

"Ron? Wha—"

Without another word, he gave her a passionate kiss, uncaring that everyone else could see them.

Off to the side, a lone mantle clock, which had been diligently ticking, spun in place, its gears going into haywire. When the light touched him, the front glass popped open and then it started to spin. The mantle clock growing in size until a man stood in its place with sandy brown hair standing on end, whilst his dark brown eyes flickered around him, the flecks of gold glimmering in the sunlight. A scar marred his face. Remus turned around only to see the face of his friend – one he hadn't properly seen in many years.

With a roguish grin, and grey eyes alight in amusement, the man in front of him moved forward, hugging his best friend. Turning back, Sirius mussed his own hair, black tresses reaching his shoulder. "What did I tell you Moony? Everything will work out in the end right?"

Remus blinked, about to retort to the question, when he saw a small explosion of feathers not so far off. He grinned when he pointed behind Sirius' back, not saying a single word.

Curious, Sirius turned, only to see a blur of brown and white collide with him. Blinking, he looked down, only to see a brown-haired beauty wearing a feathery white dress hugging him for all that he was worth. The beauty looked up, only for Sirius' grey eyes to clash with the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen. Overcome with emotion, he leaned down and kissed his love for all that he was worth, relishing in the closeness that had long been denied from him.

"Marlene, my love… I…"

With a smile, Marlene stood on her tiptoes, silencing whatever it was Sirius was going to say.

There was another time for that.

Remus averted his eyes from Sirius' tender moment with Marlene. He blinked his eyes when he looked over the wall of the terrace, seeing two twin red-headed men, sitting between a short, slightly-plump woman with flaming red hair. He smiled at the image before him, of Fred and George laughing in the holds of their mother, who didn't seem like she is going to stop crying anytime soon.

The villagers, who were making their way to the edge of the courtyard, gasped as the veil on their memories had been lifted - for they too, were laboring under the curse. With every moment that passed, they were beginning to remember all they had forgotten; the castle with the terrible family, and an arrogant boy… the war that occurred and the identity of the one who ended the terror… remembered all of the lavish parties that used to be held, and all of their loved ones who worked there.

Approaching the front door Arthur Weasley looked up, admiring the view of the castle, which now glowed with happiness. Walking forward, it only took him a few moments to notice that something was approaching him from behind. As he turned around, a figure leaped into his arms, crying and soaking the front of his robes. He blinked his blue eyes when he finally realized who exactly was hugging him.

"Mollywobbles…" looking up, he sees his two boys staring at him with identical looks of mischief and love in their blue eyes, their messy hair standing up in all directions. "Fred… George… Oh how much I missed you."

The two twins shook their heads, "I doubt you actually remembered us,"

"But the sentiment is appreciated pops."

Arthur laughed at the antics of the two boys and shook his head. Glancing at the sight before him, he smiled softly when he saw his youngest son talking with a blonde-haired woman off to the side. 

For now, all was well…

* * *

Sitting off to the side, watching the heart-warming reunions, was Luna.

Giggling to herself, she continued to pet a squashed-faced orange cat as she continued to watch. When she cursed the castle and everyone in it, all she wanted to do was make sure that Harry would be happy again. She had seen how cruel and callous he would become if left to his own devices, continuing on his downward spiral of darkness that he found himself in. She never liked the outcome; and so, she decided to do something about it.

Seeing the happy staff members run amok, calling out to one another, and hugging each other, Luna knew that she had succeeded in her plans. That she had succeeded in making Harry learn and accept his past mistakes, and managed to finally open his heart.

Hair tussled by the breeze, she continued to pat the purring happy cat, her grey eyes warming at the sight. A lone white ferret scurried away. And who would have thought… that all it would take was some time and a particularly stubborn young woman to help him do it.

But nonetheless, he had found his way.

Seeing that her work was done, Luna smiled and stood up. No one will be able to connect herself with that of the Enchantress – she made sure of that. Those tendrils of light did more than just return everything back to its previous state.

Now… she can go back to her village life. Maybe she would find someone who would love to spend the rest of his life with her? Luna mused as she turned around.

Who knows? But one thing was certain…

… All was as it should be.


	36. Epilogue

Hermione smiled as she glided across the ballroom, decorated with beautiful white flowers. She never thought she would ever be this happy half a year ago, but now, as she stares up at Harry's brilliant green eyes, that wasn't the case.

So much had happened ever since she had left the village to save her father. She had experienced many things during that short amount of time and learned even more. Twist and turns. Ups and downs. Trials and victories. So many things came to pass… But one thing she is most certain of – is that it was all worth it.

All the tears she cried, all the anguish she felt… the despair and fear… they all melted away. It feels so long ago that she had gone through all that… but now, it feels like a distant memory.

She smiled as they passed many faces that are now so familiar to her. Her father, free and healthy was laughing from whatever joke Reverend Filius said to him. She caught sight of Sirius and Marlene, dancing nearby – they had decided to elope soon after the curse was broken. Fred and George's laughs could be heard and she glanced in their direction, to see them dance with two beautiful women – Angelina and Alicia. In the corner of her eye, she can see Mrs. Weasley fussing over her husband and Ron's fiancé, Lavender. Last she saw Remus, he was being dragged out of the ballroom by a woman with bright pink hair – she hadn't seen him since. As she was spun in place, she managed to spot her best friend – Luna – dancing with a tall round-faced man with brown-blond hair.

Brought back to Harry's arms, Hermione lifted her head, her eyes meeting Harry's green ones. He smiled down at her and she blushed, feeling the now familiar warmth of love course through her whole body – a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Over the past three months, she found herself falling deeper and deeper in love with Harry with each passing day, especially as she watched him embrace the life that had been denied from him for so long. Many times, she had overheard the villagers talking about how different and approachable Harry is now. Compared to the young arrogant lad from before. She had heard many women – a certain woman with long straight red hair first came to mind – saying how Harry should be with someone from his own station. But all she needed to do was look in Harry's eyes and she knows…

… that that would never happen.

_He loves me… and I love him_, she thought as he spun her around the elaborate ballroom. She loves everything about him, even his flaws. _Still…_, she mused, _there was one thing that she kind of misses_.

Harry, feeling Hermione tense in his arms, looked at her, his eyes narrowing with worry. "Hermione…" he said, "What are you thinking?"

She took a moment to consider her answer and tried her best to contain the smile that wanted to escape. It’s adorably amusing how much he obviously cares for her. Seeing that as the seconds pass, his expression grew more and more panicked, she decided to let him at ease from his worries. "Well…" she said, amusement flickering in her eyes, "How do you feel about growing a beard?"

Letting out a roar of laughter, Harry pulled Hermione closer. Her eyes locked with his, he gently guides her out of the ballroom, leaving the party-goers inside. Guiding her to the colonnade, red roses blooming around the stone framework, he guided her to sit on a bench.

Sitting down, she looked up at him, admiring the handsome man in front of her, whose hands were tucked inside his pockets.

"Why don't you sit down?" Hermione asked, breaking the heated silence, "we have been dancing for hours now. Don't you want to rest?"

Harry smiled, an amused glint passing through his eyes, "You did ask…"

And with a gasp, Hermione's eyes widened as he watched Harry kneel down on one knee, just a short distance in front of her. His green eyes are intent – gazing up at her with so much love and devotion. Heart beating wildly in her chest, she almost fainted when she saw he was holding out for her – the Golden Snitch.

Seeing the happy shock in Hermione's eyes, Harry chuckled as he opened the small golden orb right in front of her, and he removed the beautiful golden ring nestled within. She could see a small engraving of the Snitch flying lazily around the ruby in the center of it – carved to look like a little red rose.

"I'm… not so sure what to say," Harry said, ruffling his messy black hair, "I… "

"Just ask," Hermione whispered, a soft smile gracing her lips as she watched her love fidget awkwardly in front of her.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them, staring intently at her. "Hermione Jean Granger – my Beauty. Will you marry me?"

Hermione's eyes glistened when she heard the words. She already knew her answer; all she had to do was say it. "Yes… my Beast," Hermione said as she fell to the ground in front of him, "I will happily marry you."

And as they leaned forward to kiss, lost in this one perfect moment, the world faded away until it felt as if it were just the two of them.

Their tale was far from over, but one day… maybe, just maybe…

Someone will speak of their tale and cherish it in their hearts.

Like a story someone told her so long ago…

**~Fin~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the admins at Harmony & Co. for hosting this event. I had so much fun and learned so many things when writing this story and I hoped everyone enjoyed it. Please make sure to check out the other works from this collection - everyone worked hard in making this event a success. 
> 
> And again, thank you tweetysrcclt9 and Sakubato for your help in this story. It wouldn't have been possible without your input and feedback.


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